


P.S I Love You

by L1av, The_Nerd_Alert



Series: P.S I Love You [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bottom Steve, Bucky's got a thing for skinny boys, Dry Humping, Explicit Sexual Content, Happy Ending, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Peter brings the comedy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Rimming, Top Bucky Barnes, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, actual letters in first chapter, and some hilariously awkward situations, angsty Steve Rogers, coming to terms with your body, crying make out sessions, mild violence in chapter 6, penpals to lovers, post-it notes with silly doodles, sprinkled with fluff, surprise letters, the title was blatantly stolen as inspiration from the film but is no way affiliated with its story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-04-05 21:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 158,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4195605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L1av/pseuds/L1av, https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Nerd_Alert/pseuds/The_Nerd_Alert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers was too asthmatic, too small and too unfit for the military. When his university was advertising for the Mail-A-Militant penpal program, he thought he'd give it a shot. Support someone out there fighting for their country with no family. What he didn't expect was for a man like Bucky Barnes to write back and <i>flirt</i> with him. He didn't expect Bucky to be <i>gorgeous</i> and he didn't expect to fall in love with the man he'd been corresponding with for a year. Now Steve faces his biggest fear and challenge yet; Bucky is coming home and worst of all... Steve gave him a picture of his best friend, Peter Quill instead of his own to stave off the rejection. </p><p>What happens next is the last thing Steve ever thought could happen...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Getting To Know You

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was a surprise written for our beloved friend, Demi, so SURPRISE!! We hope you like it!! I'll flesh out notes a bit later, right now I'm rushing!
> 
> If you cannot read the letters follow this link!! [Click Me!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4203000/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has a photoset and it's located here: [Click me!](http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/post/124681158988/ps-i-love-you-explicit-410-chapters-updates/)
> 
>  **please be advised** that photobucket's servers have destroyed the images of this fic and we no longer have access to the files. We will put in regular ol' text the letters into the document, but you can also click the "series" to see all the letters there too. Sorry. :(

Steve had signed up for the Mail a Militant program before. He knew the drill. You’d write down a few of your interests and why you wanted to be a penpal to someone in the ARMY. You’d get a letter in the mail and there was the information of your partner. It was like magic. Sadly, just like magic, it had always been over before Steve realized he’d had it. The first time, only a few letters. The second time; lasted about four months and then the guy just stopped. Steve wasn’t sure if the guy was even still alive at this point. He really hoped he was. He’d been nice. Just damaged. Steve sat at his desk, staring down at a blank piece of looseleaf paper. He tapped his pen on the desk in a pulse-like beat. What to write? Would he try to be charming? Suave? Confident? He rolled his eyes at himself. He’d tried that once. All it got was a female rejecting him after she saw a head-only picture. She’d clearly been smart. When she’d asked for a full body...Steve had stopped writing.

He stared at the parchment, chewing his bottom lip softly. _‘Just be yourself this time. Just your true, honest-to-God self.’_

**  
**

Steve stared down at the letter, looking at the picture that reflected one of his best friends, Peter Quill and not himself. _‘So much for being myself...’_ He swallowed heavily. If he’d shown what he really looked like…all angles and bumpy ribs, no one would look twice at him. _Especially_ a guy in the military. Why’d he even sign up for this again? This was just going to hurt him in the end. He’d get attached and then this guy would just stop writing.

Honestly, Steve thought it was one of the best programs out there. He’d seen a lot of relationships really bud from it. Or rather, he read the testimonials. This is why he tried. So many people had taken to the internet, to the media, to the very _graves_ of military personnel to show their hatred and protests against them. They demonized the military or they judged those for enlisting. Steve wanted to voice his support. That’s why he kept doing this. He wanted to prove that not every American had turned their back. He wanted to prove someone still cared.

He closed the envelope over the handwritten letter. He always wrote his letters in his penmanship. He thought it was kinder, more personal. Licking at the edges to get it nice and sticky, he closed the envelope and made his way to class, being sure to stop by the big blue USPS box. God, he hoped this time it’d be different.

Steve stared at the letter; reading it over and over as if the words might vanish. He imagined what this soldier sounded like. Was he gruff? Smooth? Husky? He was...he was…

“Shit…” Steve whined out. “He’s gorgeous! And I lied to him. Shit! Shit! Shit!” Panicked, Steve gently put the letter down, looking at that smiling face for just a few seconds longer as he ran over to his bed, slamming down onto it and grabbing his phone. He mashed at the buttons with his bony fingers; biting his lip as he anxiously slid his teeth over the soft tissue of his lip.

 **< Peggy...Help! I messed up!>** he texted. He flipped back over, whining as he stared up at the ceiling of his small, unkempt room. From upside down, he looked over at his messy desk, seeing that gray letter resting gently atop it. Rolling back over, he lunged for the letter, grabbing it in his slender fingers and rereading the words again. “Bucky” was flirting with him. One letter. And he was flirting?

This did _not_ happen to Steve Rogers.

 **< Did you screw the pickle jar on too tightly? Want me to send Peter over? ;) >** Peggy responded. Steve’s face fell as he read the words. Usually he was up for jokes about himself. If you didn’t laugh at yourself sometimes, well, you weren’t really living life much. But right now wasn’t the time. He hadn’t expected this. He’d expected some kind of formal GI Joe type. He’d expected impersonal or someone who never responded. He didn’t expect the warmth and...appreciation that had flowed from that letter. It made Steve’s fingers tingle.

His heart lurched up into his throat as he responded to his best friend. **< Ha. Ha. I signed up for that penpal program. The one for the military with no family? I may or may not have used Peter’s picture… And the guy may or may not be flirting with me. And he may or may not be really hot… Like...really hot. Like I’m so screwed really hot.>**

 **< You used Peter’s picture?! Did you tell him?... Wait you know what. Hold on.>**

Before Steve had a chance to really see the words, Peggy’s face was flashing on his screen. He sighed heavily; knowing full well what kind of reaction he was about to get. “Hey, Peggy,” he said somberly.

“You used Peter’s picture? Did you even tell him?!” she inquired accusingly.

“I…” Steve huffed. “Well… I was gonna! I didn’t expect this guy to be...well...Peggy what do I do?” Steve collapsed onto his bed. Steve was small. Steve was frail. Men like “Bucky” didn’t pay any attention to men like Steve. Men like Bucky dated movie stars. They dated other men with rippling abs and _height_ and _shoulders_. Steve was a beanpole that never really hit that growth spurt his doctor kept promising him he’d get.

“You don’t tell him!” Peggy said quickly. Her voice was stern; authoritative. “You don’t say a _damn_ thing. Just keep writing him letters. No one has to know. Not even Peter.”

“But...I used his picture?” Steve cocked a silent brow.

“No one, Steve! Just...let it play out. See what happens. Okay? Don’t tell Peter. Don’t tell Bucky. It would make him stop writing you the second you tried to tell him the truth.”

Steve’s heart sank into the deepest pit of his stomach. He let out a gurgled whine.

“N-not because of what you look like!” Peggy said hurriedly. “But because you lied. So don’t tell him. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay, Peg. Thanks.”

“See you tonight?” she inquired.

“Yeah. I’ll be there.”

Steve hung up the phone, looking forlornly over at the letter. He’d lied. He’d lied to one of the most beautiful men he’d ever seen. Worst of all, this guy seemed to like guys who looked like Peter.

Guys like Bucky didn’t like guys like Steve…

Sitting back down at his desk, Steve picked up some extra stationary his mom had lying around. It was almost embarrassing how silly this stationery was. He’d have to find new stationery soon. What harm could it cause? After all, he was sure Bucky would eventually stop writing. Sooner or later, all penpals just stopped writing. It was the nature of being an imaginary person who only spoke in handwritten letters and felt of smooth, cold paper. Steve wasn’t real to Bucky. He’d stop writing eventually. Till then, Steve would give him something to dissipate his boredom.

_To: Sergeant James B. Barnes_   
_From: Steve Rogers_

_Dear, Sgt. Bucky (It’s Bucky now right? or do I still call you James?)_   
  
_So, you were expecting a child to be writing you? This isn’t a letdown is it? I could always let my neighbor write you a paragraph or so. She’s five. She’s always over here asking me to come draw with chalk outside with her. I should take pictures of those pieces. They end up masterpieces. My dragons, elegantly soaring through her floating, magical cupcakes and “kitties.” Pure genius. We’re going to be famous one day._   
  
_Yeah, I’m pretty sure doing laps in the desert is great fun. Really good for the sinuses, huh? But I’m glad you’re happy with where you are. That’s what’s most important in life. Going to school for business is smart. Unlike me, you’ll actually have a job! My favorite part of being an art major is when people ask me, “Well what are you going to do with that?” Or they discredit it as not being a “real” major. Oh well. Price I pay for doing what I want to do right? Though sometimes it’s fun to shove it in their face when I make a pretty hefty commission for doing random odd jobs, mostly murals around our city. I should take pictures of those and show you them. I attached…actually a drawing of you. From your picture. I’m sure I got a lot wrong since I only saw the one angle but I thought it’d be kind of fun? I hope you like it. If not, I could always try again. But you’d have to send me more pictures ;)_   
  
_Oh. No. I still have asthma. You can lead a pretty healthy lifestyle and still be subjected to lungs that decide to randomly say, “I hate you, now suffer.” It’s great fun, running on a treadmill at low and suddenly you’re falling back off it and crawling over to your gym bag making terribly embarrassing wheezing sounds while everyone is staring at you. Fun stuff._

_Tolkien is an inspiration! I was reading his stuff when I was a kid. My mom tried so hard to keep those books away from me. I apparently got nightmares a lot about orcs. I don’t really remember. I was too busy pretending I was an elf and would climb all over the furniture in our house and pretend I was shooting a bow. I think I scared a few of my mom’s boyfriend’s off. Oh well. I also am pretty sure I broke a few bones that way…now that I think about it. Oh I’m rambling again._

_I think I’ll send you a compilation of artwork next time. If you’d like that? I was kind of unprepared to send you something. I didn’t expect to get a letter back so fast. Figured my first oh-so-elegant letter would have chased you off. You could really judge my work then. J_

_You think it’s cute? My questions? I mean, that’s great. I just guess most people find me kind of…intrusive? Annoying? To put it more to the point. Haha. I guess I’ll be asking more questions then. Oh and BELIEVE me, I am not always straight faced in my life model drawing class. There’s this one guy who comes in and he’s got these big built muscles and he (to steal your words) looks like a legit brick house. He’s in this white robe right? And I’m with my friends and we’re pretty excited because, well, he’s a “specimen,” and suddenly he takes off his robe and we start giggling because he’s got the smallest uh…well…we’re both men here, but, I don’t know. Is it inappropriate if I say dick? I guess I could say penis. I just always say dick. Less science-y and more, casual? I don’t know. Anyway, this man is hung like a grape… I don’t even think he could even get four inches out of an erection. So…needless to say, there was a lot of laughter in the corner of the room that day. Our professor wanted to kill us, but the guy took it like a champ. Actually, I don’t think he had any idea we were laughing at him. His body was so perfect outside of that! He probably thought we were just making jokes about other things! Guy was obsessed with himself. I mean, who comes into a nudes class in a white robe? Most of the other models just wear yoga pants and stuff and just drop ‘em._

_You have wallets over there? Wow, that was probably a dumb question. I’m sure you still have to pay for stuff. Hey, maybe I’ll send you more pictures of myself. We’ll just have to see how your next letter goes! (I’m teasing. You actually write a letter. I just fumble around and pray you think I’m mildly amusing. I am mildly amusing right?)_

_Please keep being safe. I was worried till I got your letter, and now I’m worried all over again. Heard about the suicide bombers today. I hope they weren’t near your base or you weren’t near them._

_Your adorable fool,_   
_Steve_

 

 

It was like clockwork. Steve would receive a letter, write a letter and then he’d wait anxiously for “his soldier” to send him one back. They wrote once a week for months. They would have probably written more except the mail system didn’t work that fast. Neither one of them seemed to think of email or other forms of communication. This was so much more...fulfilling. Steve had dreamed of this. Of the penpal program actually working. He’d learned so much about Bucky in such a short time he felt he could paint the colors of the man’s soul. He was a smoker (nasty habit but Steve understood a lot of guys in the military smoked), he preferred dogs to cats but snakes were his favorite, he’d fallen from a horse when he was five years old because he decided doing “tricks” on it sounded like a good idea.

In turn, Steve wrote everything he could think of back. He told Bucky stories of growing up as the kid with asthma and when he got so sick he actually lost some of his hearing. He told him about his developing scoliosis and how he’d probably need back surgery one day but it didn’t stop him from going to the gym (lies, he was pretending as if he was a “fit guy” as he was pretending to be Peter; at least in looks). Still, it was a way he could explain about his real self without letting Bucky slip through his fingers. He’d become completely enthralled with “his soldier,” and in turn, Bucky seemed to have become enamored with Steve. He liked Steve’s silly jokes and all his pictures. He liked the way Steve rambled on in a sentence without really saying anything. They were really bonding.

And Steve was falling hard.

  


Steve took a deep, careful, long breath in. Talking on the phone. He’d suggested it. This was his bed and he had made it. He swallowed hard, feeling his Adam’s apple bob violently in his throat. He wasn’t sure if he just let out a squeak or a groan; it didn’t sound manly enough to be a groan. _‘I have to tell Peter...’_ This was okay… He’d only been talking to a soldier on the other side of the world in a war zone, pretending to use his best friend’s face and say it was his own, developing feelings for said soldier and having said soldier start developing feelings for him. This was fine. Peter would totally understand. Not… Steve set the letter down, looking at the pile of other letters that Bucky had sent him over the months. He’d been meaning to start keeping them in a binder but he’d read them at night before he fell asleep. He couldn’t bring himself to tuck them away. It was the only thing Steve had of Bucky. He’d even tried to smell the paper once and see if there’d be a scent, but he’d only gotten the sharp scent of ink.

Steve picked up his phone; feeling his hands shake in trepidation.

“Heyooo,” Peter said as he answered on the second ring. “Whatchu up to lil man?”

Ordinarily, that wouldn't hurt Steve’s feelings, but right now, with Bucky thinking he was this big, broad-shouldered man with a cut jaw and deep eyes… Steve was feeling a bit sensitive.

“Can you stop calling me that?” Steve spat in agitation.

“Woah! You call me Mr. Love-Handles! If we’re gonna poke jokes at each other it’s gotta be fifty-fifty.”

“Peter,” Steve drawled. “I’ve got…” He felt his heart slam into his chest, battering against the thin tissue that held it safely in place. “I messed up.”

“Steve,” Peter said; his voice drained of all play and amusement. “Buddy, talk to me.”

Steve closed his eyes. If he’d let himself fall further into panic he was sure to clench up his lungs and he did _not_ need an asthma attack right now. “You know I signed up for that Mail-A-Militant program right?”

“Yeah?” Peter drawled. “You didn’t join the army did you? Oh God! Did they even let you enlist? How’d you get through?!”

“Peter!” Steve shouted. “No.” Steve fell into his desk chair. His fingers were tingling and his tongue felt thick. How was he supposed to tell his best friend he’d been pretending to be him? How was he supposed to explain to Bucky when Peter refused to let this go any further? Would Peter feel weird about this? Betrayed? Disgusted?

“Steve,” Peter nudged gently. “C’mon, bud, what’s wrong?”

“I lied to him,” Steve finally said; letting the dam rush open. “I lied to him and you. I sent your picture… I thought that if he saw the real me that he’d stop talking to me. The other ones always stopped talking. I just… I just wanted to make a difference for someone.”

“Steve…” Peter groaned.

“No, let me finish,” Steve chirped. “He’s beautiful and I think he really likes me and I lo-” Steve clamped his mouth shut as his eyes rounded frantically. “I really like him too.”

“Are you meeting him or something?” Peter asked. His voice was neutral. Steve had no idea if this was a good or bad sign.

“N-no. He wants to talk to me on the phone.”

“So? He can’t see your skinny ass on the phone. You’ve got a great voice! What’s the problem?”

“The problem is when he comes home! He’s from Brooklyn! His term is almost up. What about when he comes home and he wants to meet me and I’m nothing that I said I was!”

There was a long pause. Steve breathed heavily into the phone as he held it with a shaking hand. He could hear the small chirps that sounded like chimes as his lungs squeezed air out; slowly started to constrict. He’d start full on wheezing if he didn’t calm himself down. This was the end. Everything he’d built with Bucky would be over. Bucky had gotten to know Steve. He got to really see under what Steve was and show him what Steve really could be! No one ever gave Steve a chance like that, but it’d all been an illusion. Bucky would never have given Steve the time of day if he’d really known… It had all been an illusion. With a shattering heart, it was time for Steve to finally wake up.

“Do you want me to talk to him for you? Till you’re ready?”

Steve’s mouth dropped open as his whole body seemed to relax into a pleasant, warming slump. “Y-you’d really do that for me?”

Peter groaned, but it sounded more like he was just trying to give Steve a hard time. “You’re my best friend. I’d do a lot of things I’ll regret the day after for you. Like that one time we went to that bar and-”

“Peter,” Steve interjected. “You’re douchebag is about to start showing.”    

“Jesus, I’ll never forgive myself for that night…” Peter lamented. “Okay, so, you want me to talk to this guy? I’ll talk to this guy. But you’re gonna be with me so I know what to say!”

“I owe you big time,” Steve said softly, feeling as if the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He wasn’t certain he’d not just start floating away. Peggy was supportive. Peter was supportive. He had the best of friends. It was a wonder people like them decided to be friends with such a small guy like him. He’d not look that gift horse in the mouth though.

“So, what’s the plan, Stan?” Peter rhymed.

* * *

 

 

 

Steve didn't know what the _hell_ to do. It had been just shy of two months since he’d heard from his soldier overseas. In the past he would have just chalked it up to the two growing apart, the writer growing tired of putting so much effort into writing someone who could essentially be considered anonymous outside of a piece of paper. In the past he would have felt the sting for awhile, but eventually move on.

Bucky was different. Bucky, no longer writing to him, felt like someone had reached into Steve's chest and ripped out his already feeble heart and crushed it right in front of his eyes. Bucky was supposed to be the different one. Bucky was supposed to be the one that made Steve feel like he _could_ be loved.

But still, it was better than thinking of the alternative.

He'd seen the news report just two day after Bucky and Peter had talked on the phone. An entire squadron; gone in the blink of an eye with a few carefully placed IED's and a hail of gunfire. And then silence from his soldier after that.

Currently, Steve found himself lying on Peggy's sofa with his head in her lap, while she ran her fingers through his hair in soothing strokes. Steve had wandered from his mother's home that day, completely bereft of emotion. However, the moment Peggy had opened the door, the torrential downpour had hit and he broke down, crying right in front of his best gal friend.

After a cup of tea and a few soothing words, Steve had calmed down, but hadn't moved from his spot on peggy's couch. He felt like a broken, used up old toy. He hadn’t seen her pull out her phone and send a text but about twenty minutes later, he looked up to see Peter come into the room, looking more than sorry as he stared down at his depressed friend.

"Hey lil’ man... What happened?" Peter asked, his voice low as he sat down on the floor next to his tiny best friend. His eyes traveled to the last letter Bucky had sent Steve, and instantly his brows knitted together. "Did Bucky break up with you over a letter? If he did, I'll kill ‘em myself."

"Peter." Peggy warned, looking down at him with an expression that nipped that in the bud. "That might not be the best choice of words right now..."

Steve watches the realization dawning across his friend's face and he shook his head to stop Peter’s train of thought before it started. "I don't know. I don't know any details, the Global News Network isn't giving shit away and... And I have no one else I could contact about him. He either got freaked out after the phone call and just won't write to me...or..."

"No." Peter said; his eyes hardening. "I don't think he got freaked out. He seemed _way_ too excited on the phone. You could hear him. That didn't sound like someone who could have had any second thoughts, I _swear_ to that." He grabbed Steve’s hand, offering a short, tight squeeze in affirmation.

"Yeah, but then I sent him this disgustingly _gushing_ letter right after. I poured out my feelings to him! And then he just stopped. If he isn't hurt or... Or worse, then I scared him off. Maybe he never felt that way about me. Maybe I'm just a damn idiot, like always... Gettin’ my hopes up. Bucky couldn't possibly like someone like me. I'm just the kid that kept his mind preoccupied while he was out doing good for the country."

Peter and Peggy looked at each other. From their faces, it was obvious they were having a silent conversation about how to proceed with this. Steve knew they were thinking about two things. Did Bucky end it? Or was he dead. First option was definitely preferable to the option that Bucky actually could’ve died. Steve knew they’d been watching the news too. Shit had hit the fan over there, and a lot of soldiers had suffered for it.

In either case, Steve was going to suffer a broken heart... He’d wallow away right now on Peggy’s couch. He didn’t want to move. Ever. He allowed a broke whine to pass his lips as he grabbed one of Peggy’s blankets and wrapped himself into it.

"Steve..." Peter offered gently; giving him a soft smile. "I say try one more letter... Maybe the mail isn't getting through because of the fighting? Maybe it's something totally stupid that Bucky isn't writing back. Just... _one_ more letter. It can't hurt. And if Bucky finally gets those letters. He'll see how important he is to you. No one can turn down that kind of devotion..."

Steve listened, chewing his lower lip. Peter had a point, even if it wasn't necessarily the most plausible. Nodding to his friends, Steve sat up, wiping his knuckles over his cheek. "Alright... One more... And this time I'll lay it all out on the line..."

* * *

 

 

 

 

Steve’s jaw dropped. He hadn’t meant to, but in his whirlwind of emotions that sent zings up and down his spine, he crumpled up the letter and went running out of the apartment. Of course, he hadn’t let go of it.

Bucky was coming home. Bucky was leaving the war. Bucky was out. Bucky was… Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Bucky was...coming home. Bucky would… have to meet Peter. Bucky would...no. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair! Tears started to prick at the sides of Steve’s eyes as he waited anxiously for the elevator. He wouldn’t dare take the stairs. He’d throw himself into a fit faster than a jackrabbit. He’d poured his soul out to Bucky. He’d never hid a single thing except what he looked like. He piled lie upon lie and now he was going to face that. He’d lose Bucky. He’d lose the one man he really thought he’d fallen in love with. And yes, he felt he loved Bucky. The letters… They’d been so heartfelt. They’d been so real. Every story he shared had been from his heart. He poured his heart into the letters like a person pouring iced tea. He sent off each letter with a gentle kiss to the back of the envelop and he prayed somehow Bucky would just _know_ that he had.

But he’d lied.

Bucky wouldn’t forgive that. Bucky would take one look at the lanky, short, asthmatic of a man and turn away in disgust. He’d probably hit on Peter in front of Steve just to nail the point home and then he’d be on his way. He’d leave Steve. He’d go home and rip up every lie that Steve gave him and he’d burn the letters and cast Steve out of his life faster than he’d gotten in. That’s how this would go. Steve knew it. No one dated a guy like Steve. He was instant friendzone. Or creep zone. He’d gone on double dates with Peter. The girl would take one look at him and scoff when he attempted to open a door for her or share his popcorn. Each time she’d apparently whisper to her friend what a creep Steve was. Did they know how badly that hurt? All Steve wanted to do was be nice and he was labeled a creep for it? It wasn’t like he was sitting there on Facebook looking up all her exes and contacting them or something! Friendzone or creep. But to Bucky...he’d be something else. He’d be a liar.

He couldn’t bring himself to do this yet. He couldn’t go into that airport and show himself. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to lose Bucky just yet. After getting off the elevator, he flipped out his phone, dialing the one number he’d become so grateful to have.

“Hi, you’ve reached the glorious voice of Peter Quill, if you need me to pretend to be a boyfriend to a man half way across the world, please press one!”

“That’s not funny Peter,” Steve said flatly. “And I need more than just your voice.”

“Hoo! Hold your horses there, kid!”

“Bucky wants me to pick him up from the airport,” Steve responded, ignoring Peter’s attempt at joking. Steve wasn’t in the mood. All his thoughts were on the day he finally would tell Bucky and watch the light drain from his perfect crystal-blue eyes. He couldn’t stand that. Not yet. He just needed more time to pretend… He just needed to live in this illusion just a bit longer. He stepped out into the night, being grateful for the sweater he’d put on that morning. The October air nipped at his nose teasingly.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Peter asked, his voice now laced with hesitation. “You...do you think...do you honestly want? Wait. Steve.”

“I need you to get him. I’ll follow you. We can wear headcoms. I’ve told him I’m hard of hearing in one ear. He’ll just think it’s the hearing aid.”

“Steve...Steve you really shouldn’t. _We_ really shouldn’t.”

“C’mon, Pete,” Steve pleaded as he paced in front of his apartment complex. “This guy’s really important to me.”

“So you should be the one standing there with the bouquet of flowers! Not me! What if he tries to kiss me?!” Peter shouted in a tight, raspy voice, as if he was trying to keep his voice down but still drive the point home.

“He won’t! I sent him a letter back saying that I get nervous and tense up about meeting people. But I already agreed to it...so…” Steve shrugged, despite knowing Peter couldn’t see him.

“Steven Grant Rogers. I will end you. I will personally take you out back and end you!”

“I’ve been wanting you to take me in the back for _years_!” Steve joked, attempting to lighten the mood. He understood his friend’s hesitation. Peter was straight. This was a homosexual soldier who hadn’t seen the one he’d come to care for, ever… It was bound to pull some form of reaction out of him.

“Damn it, Steve! This isn’t a time for jokes!” Peter shouted, now unable to restrain his voice. “Shit! You owe me a date with Natasha!”

Steve rolled his eyes. That was never going to happen. “Sure. I’ll see what I can do.”

“No, you get her to go out with me. She’s gonna hold my hand!” Peter demanded. “Oh my God! You’re so lucky I love you!”

Steve laughed. He was starting to breathe easier. The cool air caressed over his body like a gentle caresses. It’d been good to get out of the apartment for some air. “So. Wanna go over the plan?”

“Date. With Nat. Owed.”

“Deal.”

* * *

 

The airport was buzzing with people as they frantically scurried from security to their gates. Children screamed and yelped in delight as they followed behind their parents. Men dressed in fancy suits held expensive phones to their ears as they walked calmly. Steve felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb when he sat down at the cafe, holding up a large newspaper. “Testing, test,” he whispered into his headcom.

 _“I hear you,”_ Peter mumbled as he turned around and waved, but made it look more like he was stretching. He was standing by the baggage claims, looking at the elevators that would bring the weary travelers officially back to solid ground.

“Now remember,” Steve began. “Hug him. Smile. Call him Buck.”

 _“I heard you the last ten thousand times. I got this! How’s the date with Natasha working out?”_ __

Steve’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t respond. He didn’t care enough to right now. His heart was up in his throat as it shrieked at Steve to just run out there and stand next to Peter. His feet were aching, like he’d run ten miles barefoot. He felt _terrified_. Bucky would be here. Bucky would be here in person. He could reach out and touch him and yet...he couldn’t. He couldn’t at all. He’d be a man that Bucky had no idea who he was. He’d be someone that Bucky didn’t even know existed. He was someone that Bucky didn’t know existed. This entire time, Bucky had been picturing Peter. He’d pictured Peter drawing on the sidewalk with Maggie. He’d pictured Peter giggling in the back of a life model art class. He didn’t even know Steve existed.

Steve’s stomach knotted. He grabbed at it with his hands, allowing the newspaper to slump down flat. He prayed he wouldn't be sick here. He couldn’t. He needed to see Bucky; even if Bucky didn’t really get to see him.

 _“When’s he gonna be here?”_ Peter asked into the com.

“Should be any minute. Just keep your eyes up on the escalator and try to look like you’re about to cry.”Steve watched Peter from his tucked away spot at the cafe. Peter’s brow was furrowed and his eyes were wincing. “I said about to cry, Peter! Not constipated!”

 _“How the fuck does that look?!”_ Peter angrily whispered into the com. _“Oh shit. I think that’s him!”_

Steve brought up his newspaper, peaking his nose around the side to look at...Yes. Yes that was Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes. Steve’s heart swelled. He could hear his pulse in his ear. His stomach was filled with the most _pleasant_ of warming sensations. Bucky was stunning. His dark brown hair was gelled to the side, combed in a neat side part. He wore his ARMY uniform, all sandy camo with the name BARNES imprinted above a pectoral muscle that was still even defined despite the bulky material of the uniform. He was flawless. His pink, soft lips. His rough five-o'clock shadow that clung to his face perfectly, highling his defined jawline and trickling down into his protruding Adam’s apple. Steve started to cry. How could someone so beautiful be so kind? How could someone like that even have the time of day for Steve?

 _‘He didn’t. He had the time of day for Peter...’_

Steve sobbed into the com. Clearly it distracted Peter because he turned around for a moment, flashing a look of panic and concern but Steve pretended to cough so he could wave a dismissive hand back at Peter.

Steve’s heart was breaking. It was etched, strained and shattering into thousands of crystalline, red bloody pieces. He was literally feeling his soul being pulled from his body and being ripped mercilessly to shreds. Bucky would never love _him_. He’d never be good enough.

That’s what made this so much worse. He’d have to come clean one day. He’d have to show himself. It wasn’t fair to Peter and it _certainly_ wasn’t fair to Bucky. The look in Bucky’s eyes...Oh God, Steve could see it now. He would be greeted with so much disdain and hatred. He sobbed into the newspaper. Several people were staring at him but now wasn’t a time to actually _care_ what other people thought. He was seeing Bucky for the first time, knowing he’d never be good enough for that flawless, broad chested, beautiful man.

Gathering up himself, he watched on as Bucky’s gaze finally met Peter. He saw a light that he didn’t think exist cross into that perfect face. Bucky was smiling. He was waving. He was bouncing on the escalator. He was politely asking people to get out of his way so he could… He was running. He was _running_.

Bucky dropped his backpack, bolting into Peter and picking him up in a swinging hug. Peter yelped, giving Steve a very _pointed_ look before allowing himself to slip into the character he’d been asked to play. He smiled, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s shoulders as his feet danced awkwardly in the air; searching for ground.

Bucky put Peter down, grabbing at his face as his eyes were round in disbelief and shock. Of course he’d look so happy. He got to see Peter… He got to see rippling muscles, a defined jaw and a good head of hair. He didn’t see a tiny, nobby little man with a pointed nose and eyes that he felt were too big for his face. Bucky got to see perfection, because he was perfection.

Peter awkwardly laughed along with Bucky, but Steve could see the rigid curve of his spine. He could see how he had one leg back, just in case he had to turn and run. He prayed this didn’t go badly. The last thing Steve wanted was Bucky to feel _rejected_. Steve would never reject such honest to God, goodness and beauty. Bucky would be the one doing that. Because Steve had lied. He wasn’t good enough.

“Oh my God, Stevie!” Bucky cried out. Several people were watching Peter and Bucky interact. Some had smiles on their faces. Others didn’t seem to care one way or the other. Steve was glad. He didn’t want Peter subjected to anything more than Steve was already putting him through. “Oh my God, I can’t fucking believe it!” He pulled Peter into another hug. It was tight. Peter’s body was forced flesh up against Bucky’s.

Steve saw the look of panic that drained Peter’s face of all color. _‘I’m the worst best friend on the planet.’_

“Say something!” Steve encouraged into the com.

“B-Buck!” Peter cried out awkwardly, taking a full step back as he broke the hug. “I...can’t believe it either!”

Steve winced. This was painful. At least Bucky didn’t seem to care. He was too busy drinking up Peter’s body. Steve watched those blue eyes glaze over Peter’s chest, his shoulders, down his arms. He saw them linger over Peter’s waist and down further… Bucky was checking him out.

Steve felt tears build in his eyes again.

“Can I take your bag?” Peter offered. That was polite. Steve was okay with that.

Bucky waved his hand; snorting. “Please. I just served a tour in Iraq. I’m no pansy.”

Peter shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well, okay… How was the plane ride?”

Bucky’s eyes lit up again with that electric passion that seemed to be tangible around his aura. “Oh! It was great actually! Got seated next to a window and a really nice lady! She and I talked about Coney Island for _hours_!”

Steve watched as energy poured from Bucky as he told his story. He was bubbling over with it. His lips were upturned into a permanent smile. His eyes were sparkling like sun against a waterfall. Even his shoulders were practically shuddering with enthusiasm. He was so... _happy_.

It was just Peter’s body that he was happy about. It was Steve’s mind. Bucky had found such comfort in Steve’s mind. He’d found his ramblings endearing. He’d found his stories amusing. Bucky had poured himself equally into Steve as Steve had into Bucky. He was excited because to his knowledge, that was Steve.

 _‘I’m right here...’_

But Bucky didn’t look at Steve. He kept his eyes fixed on Peter as he continued to make wild gestures with his hands about the experiences he wanted to share at Coney Island with Peter. Steve felt like a rug was being pulled out from under him. He felt the strange, tingling sensation at the back of his head as he continued to watch almost in a blank, mesmerized stare.

Bucky was _fixated_ on who he thought was _his_ Steve.

Peter laughed along, crossing his arms over his chest. “So...you wanna go sometime then?”

“Hell yeah! What about tomorrow? Are ya busy? If you are that’s cool. I was just wonderin’. I mean. You’re still down for hanging out? Like, more than this?”

“Say, “Of course, we still have that Lord of the Rings marathon to do,” Steve ordered into the headcom.

Peter allowed a slightly too long silence pass between them as Bucky’s gaze flicked back and forth over Peter’s face, that smile never faltering.

“Of course!” Peter finally said in an overly-pained enthusiasm. Steve winced. “We still have that Lord of the Rings marathon to do!”

Bucky threw his head back in laughter. “Oh man! Please tell me we can be super nerds and tie towels around our necks and act like they’re cloaks!”

“Tell him yes, and that “we can even make bows out of rulers and duct tape,” Steve said into the com. Bucky was making plans. He was fleshing them out and detailing his life with what he wanted to do with his “Steve,” only, it wasn’t his Steve at all. Just the shell. Steve was right here; sitting in this cafe...watching. He was... _right_...here.

“Yes!” Peter responded enthusiastically. He then playfully smacked at Bucky’s chest. Steve hoped that was okay. “We could even make bows out of rulers and duct tape!”  

“Oh my God!” Bucky shouted happily. “With yarn?”

“Hell yeah with yarn!” Peter responded. Steve winced. Bucky knew about his aversion to cussing unless he was upset or being very serious. Bucky must have picked up on it too because that smile faltered for a fraction of a second. “Well,” Peter said. “Wanna get outta here? Or...you hungry? We could eat at the cafe.”

“Oh no,” Bucky said with a wave of his hand. “I’ve got reservations for you n’ me tomorrow for dinner. After Coney, of course.”

“Reservations?” Peter exclaimed, pronouncing each syllable with hesitation. He didn’t sound all too happy. Steve grimaced. “Man, you’ve been busy.”

“I’m excited!” Bucky said as he outstretched his hands for emphasis. He was a hand-talker. Steve loved it already. “Aren’t you? We’re finally together, Stevie.”

Steve’s eyes went wide as saucers as Bucky’s face got serious. He bit the side of his lip, shrugging one shoulder in the most _seductive_ , yet casual way Steve had ever seen. He watched as Bucky slid one hand into Peter’s, lacing their fingers together between their chests.

“Aren’t you happy we’re together?”

Peter laughed. He laughed so loud that people turned their heads and Bucky was forced to drop his hand. He ducked his chin, watching the room with a look of caution.

“Tell him PDA makes you nervous! _Tell him now!_ ” Steve barked into the com.

He watched Peter wince from the loudness in his ear. “P-PDA makes me nervous,” Peter replied. “I’m sorry.”

Bucky shrugged, offering a soft, crooked smile. “S’cool. So, wanna drive me around? I’m shackin’ up with my buddy, Brock. He n’ I were in bootcamp together. He’s got a place in Brooklyn. You can take me there, _or_ ,” Bucky said as he lifted his shoulders, swaying back and forth on his feet. “We could go for a walk or somethin’? Maybe grab a hot dog?”

“Tell him you’d love to but you’ve got a doctor’s appointment for your asthma. You ran out of your inhaler,” Steve ordered softly into the com. He saw a girl staring at him in bemusement. “What? Can’t a guy have a conversation with a newspaper? This stuff’s thrilling.”

The girl ran off.

“Aw, Buck,” Peter drawled. He actually managed to contort his face into a look of deep regret. “I’d love to but, I’ve kinda got a doctor’s appointment for my asthma meds. He’s making an exception to see me or I’d _so_ cancel.”

“You’d so cancel?” Bucky repeated, a look of bewilderment on his face. He picked up his backpack and leaned heavily onto one leg. He looked like a model in that pose. Steve whined into the newspaper. He hated himself. He absolutely hated himself for this. He was pulling Bucky along. He was pulling Peter along. All because he wasn’t good enough. If he’d been good enough… Jesus, he wished he’d been good enough.

“I mean, I would, but..he’s doing me a favor… So I can’t,” Peter spoke evenly, like he was walking on thin ice.

“No,” Bucky said. “Not that.” He stared at Peter for a second, running that perfect blue gaze up and down Peter’s body before sliding his tongue along his top lip. “I just didn’t think you’d talk like that?”

“Talk like what?” Peter asked in an octave higher than normal.

Bucky laughed. He reached out, ruffling his fingers through Peter’s hair. “There’s my Stevie. All awkward n’ goofy. C’mon, Da Vinci!”

Steve felt his heart slowly climbing up higher and higher in his chest as they got closer to him. He felt it squeeze into his throat and lodge itself deep in the back as they were now reachable...touchable.

Bucky’s gaze flicked to him for a brief second. Their gazes met. Bucky smiled. Steve felt tears well up in his eyes all over again. His chest tightened as he wheezed out, grabbing at his throat and dropping his newspaper.

Bucky turned, hesitating as he watched Steve fumble for his inhaler.

Peter turned too; his eyes going round in terror as Bucky’s full focus was now on Steve.

“Buddy,” Bucky said. Oh no… It was directed at Steve. He was looking at Steve! He was walking toward Steve!

 _‘No! I dropped my inhaler!’_ Steve stared down at it on the floor as it tumbled out toward Bucky. He hiccuped and wheezed again, grabbing at the table.

Peter began waving his hands frantically from behind Bucky as the brunette started to walk toward Steve. Steve couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t direct anything. He wheezed violently, forcing his lungs to offer him some form of comfort as all his dignity was wiped free of his person for eternity.   

Bucky held out his inhaler. “Here ya go, man,” he said softly. “My boyfriend’s got asthma too.”

Steve’s heart would have melted into a pathetic pool at the base of his stomach had he not been so mortified that Bucky was actually looking at him. Bucky… who was so beautiful and flawless. Bucky, who was daring and brave. Bucky who embodied actual goodness and companionship. He was here. He was really looking at Steve. He was offering kindness. He wasn’t judging Steve. He wasn’t laughing. He was truly and actually concerned for Steve.

Steve responded by snatching the inhaler and allowing several, panicked hiccups and loud, choking gulps pass his lips as he finally brought the inhaler up. He felt tears slide down his face.

Bucky grimaced. Peter grabbed Bucky’s hand, pulling him gently. Steve had never been so thankful for Peter till that very moment.

“Bucky,” Peter said. “I know from experience that I hate it when people sit and watch me suffer.”

Bucky nodded. He looked back once more, his eyes drowning with empathy.

Once they were out of view and Steve could breathe again, he walked briskly to the bathroom where he promptly persisted to bolt himself into a stall and sob big, ugly tears. It rocked his body. He felt his face go hot from the blood that pushed into it. His lip quivered. He hated himself. He hated himself. Why wasn’t he good enough for that _good_ man. No one had never done that before.

No one had ever looked back. They’d all pretended it wasn’t happening. They’d keep walking or speed up. But not Bucky. Bucky slowed down. He’d turned around. He’d been willing to _wait_ with Steve. And it hadn’t even occurred to Bucky that the very man he turned to help was the very man that had written him all those letters.

That was the man who loved him beyond all else.

 


	2. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter, against his better judgment, goes on a date with Bucky. Bucky figures out something isn't quite right with "Steve". The truth comes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI GUYS WERE BACK!
> 
> SO i did my best to keep the standard of this chapter up to snuff with L1av, and after she carefully edited it, we present to you chapter 2!!! Enjoy guys!!!!
> 
> The plain text for the letter in this chapter is in Chapter 2 of "P.S. I Love You, Letters Only". [Click Me!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4203000/)  
> This fic has a photoset and it's located here: [Click me!](http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/post/124681158988/ps-i-love-you-explicit-410-chapters-updates/)

Peter drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel; he cast little sidelong glances at Bucky every few seconds, gauging whether or not the brunet had caught onto something fishy back at the airport. From the content look on his face, Peter was fairly certain Bucky hadn't figured out the ruse yet. Still, he couldn't stop thinking of the horrified look that crossed Steve's face just under an hour ago.

 

The look of shame, dejection, sadness... Goddammit, he knew this whole thing was a huge mistake. He had to get back to him and check on him, or at least call him to make sure he'd made it home okay. Peter didn't want to think what sort of turmoil his friend could be going through at this very moment. It was times like this, Peter wished he was a little smarter. If he'd put his foot down about the whole thing months ago, they wouldn't be in this situation now…

 

Dammit he was such a good friend.

 

"Hey. You okay?"

 

A voice startled him from his thoughts and he jumped in his seat. Looking over at the source of the interruption, Peter offered up a weak smile to his companion; shrugging a shoulder. "Yeah... I'm cool. Just thinking about St- ...that kid at the airport. Must’a been a bad asthma attack." He lowered his gaze to the steering wheel. He'd helped Steve through enough of those attacks to know exactly what he'd been going through. "...I know how scary they can get."

 

Bucky frowned, leaned closer to him. HIs eyes were shining with empathy. "I know. It's just... sorry if I sort of ignored you back there. The guy looked kinda freaked out... guess I just wanted to make sure he was okay." Peter could see the gears shifting in Bucky's eyes. He'd gone from deeply concerned for a stranger to all attention on him. He didn't really like the feeling it gave him. He, himself only reserved those looks for the ladies, for God's sake. "Don't worry. If you ever have an attack like that, I'll make sure to take _real_ good care of you."

 

Peter glanced up again, in time to see Bucky giving him a daring look. Dammit, now he just felt like two kinds of asshole. Not only was Steve suffering the heartbreak from this tangled up lie, but now _Bucky_ was in deep too. There was no way this could go on for long before someone got hurt. "Hey, don't gimme that look. I'll be fine."

 

"I know you will, Punk." Bucky replied. He reached over, threading their fingers together and giving Peter's hand a squeeze.

 

Peter _nearly_ yanked his hand out of his grip, but.. he'd already used the PDA excuse once, and they were alone in the car. If he jerked his hand free now, Bucky would know something was up. So he took it on the chin, looking up at Bucky with a nod and a slightly anxious smile that died halfway to his lips.

 

He knew that smile he was getting; Bucky was giving him the eye. He knew that look _very_ well... he, himself had given it to plenty of girls down at the bar. This wasn't good. He was gonna get asked inside, or kissed, or groped or _something_...  He could feel his throat tightening up in anxiety at the thought alone.

 

"H-here we are!" he practically squeaked, the moment his eyes landed on the apartment numbers. Shit, this guy lived real close to Steve's place. Go figure. Swallowing thickly, Peter threw the car into park and clambered out of the driver's seat. He glanced over his shoulder to watch Bucky climb out after him and grab his backpack. Bucky leaned down to open the trunk and grab the massive regulation duffel from inside; the size of it alone could have offered up some definite blockage from feely hands at this moment. "You uh.. here, lemme help you carry that inside."

 

Bucky snorted, looking up at him with a raise of his brow. "Really, Steve? Second time today. I must look tired." He shrugged, shouldering the backpack carefully. "Buuuut... if you _really_ wanna carry it inside for me, I'm pretty sure Brock still has a fully stocked liquor cabinet. You could stay for a little while? Just a couple drinks?" he asked; his tone rose slightly in his throat, offering up a tempting lilt. He canted his head at Peter; smile turning smooth as silk as he stepped up to him.

 

Peter balked. He could feel the slightly shorter man thread his fingers into his hand once again and tug him close. Peter very nearly squeaked as he was pulled flush with Bucky. "I-I can't... gotta... get to that doctor's appointment," he croaked, feeling himself beginning to sweat along the collar. ‘ _Shit, shit, shit!’_

 

However, his excuse seemed to do the trick. Peter felt his shoulders loosening up as he saw Bucky consider his words. After a few tense moments, Bucky backed off a little, nodding in understanding. Peter never felt so damn relieved in his life.

 

"Yeah, you're right. Wouldn't want you to miss any doses or your inhaler." Bucky replied, his voice hedging on sadness. Peter almost felt bad for disappointing him. But just as he opened his mouth to offer up an apology to him, he found himself with arms full of soldier, and tugged into a heady kiss.

 

Peter had so many planned reactions for this very moment. He'd been plotting out exactly what he'd do if Bucky were to take the moment and actually kiss him like he thought he would. Fake an asthma attack. Get a phone call. Faint. _Anything_ would have been preferable.

 

Instead, Peter stood there, eyes wide as saucers as he was kissed. Slightly chapped lips locked with his own, and the faint taste of Lucky Strikes tobacco caught his attention. Bucky had gone to town, cupping the back of his neck to tangle his fingers in the short, sandy locks at the back of his nape; he kissed the hell out of him until he was _actually_ breathless, unable to breathe through his nose pressed to the brunet's cheek.  Weirdly enough, (and he was NEVER ADMITTING THIS TO ANYONE, SO HELP HIM) he had to admit Bucky kissed better than 90% of his hookups in the past.

 

 _'PULL IT TOGETHER, SAILOR!'_ his mind screamed at him. However, the arms that had wrapped around him were locked tight, and in his shock he could barely move. Well... shit. He could feel his cheeks heating up to a bright and obnoxious pink, and he began to squirm in Bucky's arms. A five second kiss was acceptable enough to put up with for this ruse, and he would only slightly kill Steve for it. Now, this was starting to linger into the _wrong_ territory entirely. He was so screwed.

 

Peter was saved the trouble of an embarrassing escape, however. Bucky pulled back finally, pressing his nose to Peter's cheek for a brief second before he grinned up at him. "To make you a little breathless on the way there…” he murmured up at him. Winking brightly, Bucky pulled away from Peter, dropping down to shoulder his duffel and backpack at once. He had to admit, Bucky was definitely strong if he could carry both without hesitation. "Alright, get outta here. Ill see you tomorrow afternoon, alright? You got my number?"

 

Peter nodded dumbly, looking down at his phone in his pocket. "Y-yep. Got it. Uhmm.. I'll see you later!" he said, a little too hurriedly, before turning and clambering back into the car. He didn't look up at Bucky at all as he pulled from the parking spot and tore down the road  away from him. Weirded out was not a strong enough term for what he was feeling now. If he had any say in the matter, he was going to try and forget this day even happened, for as long as he lived. His best friend was gay. Clearly he didn’t mind _other_ men kissing, he just minded when _he_ was the one they were swapping spit with!

 

Driving around the block a couple times to get his head on straight, Peter finally pulled into the parking lot of Steve's apartment, clambering out and making his way for the brownstone building. He let himself in with the key he'd been given a few months back, and marched directly for Steve's home. Apartment 150 in his line of sight, Peter knocked sharply on the wooden door, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet. He was fairly certain his face was a permanent beet red at this point…

 

It'd only do him good to nail home the point that Steve was _so_ in trouble now.

 

His attention was diverted back to the door as he heard the lock turning. He looked down to see Steve staring up at him, expectantly. Peter opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a wheeze and a half-cough/half-laugh that made the man sound like he was in physical pain.

 

"Peter?" Steve asked, looking up at him with wide eyes. "What the hell happened? Did you take Bucky home?"

 

"Yep." Peter replied, his fists clenching at his sides. "Got his number and everything for you.”

 

"Okay,” Steve replied, shooting him a slightly suspicious look. "Why are you so red?"

 

Peter waved his hand, pushing past him to enter the apartment. "So uh.. first off, how are you doing? Better than earlier?" he asked; turning to face him. When Steve nodded, he uttered a low grunt under his breath, staring right at him with a piercing gaze. "Okay, good. Because I'm gonna _kill_ you."

 

Before Steve could react, Peter lunged at him, yanking his friend into a headlock as he scrubbed his knuckles over his scalp with follicle torture. " _He. Kissed. Me_." Peter growled out, staring down at the flailing blond in his arms. "You _better_ get that date with Nat for me for this, you ass! Ooooh, you're so lucky I love you!"

 

"Wait!" Steve croaked, tugging on Peter's elbow to gain some breathing room. "Okay, I'm sorry! I'll figure out a way to break the news to him!"

 

Peter narrowed his eyes down at the shorter man in his arm, reading him for honesty. When he'd deemed Steve's reaction was satisfactory, he released the man from his grip; glaring at him. "I mean it! If he even gropes my ass, I will drown you in a sack!"

 

Steve nodded; rubbing his neck where Peter had gripped him and offered him a sheepish smile. "Okay, Okay! I will. Just..." he paused, rubbing the back of his neck; a little embarrassed. "I get it. Just.. thank you. I should never have put you in this situation, and I _swear_ I will make it up to you at some point. You're probably one of the best friends anyone could ask for. Especially for doing this." Steve looked up at Peter, offering him a genuine smile.

 

Peter paused, staring down at his best friend for a moment before he finally allowed himself to relax. "You know I'd do anything for you, lil' man. But you _have_ to tell him. Tomorrow, or something. If he already kissed me now, he's not gonna stop there. You _have_ to tell him, or all three of us are gonna feel the burn from it."

 

Steve nodded, looking a little forlornly at him. "I know. I just... gimme some time to figure out how to break it to him."

 

Peter could only nod in return, slumping down onto the sofa to decompress for a moment. "Just hurry up, okay? You're not gonna be the only one with a broken heart if you wait too long."

The two of them stared at each other for a moment; hesitating a beat as Peter let his words sink into the blond's head. He watched as Steve opened his mouth to reply to that statement. Steve was a strong, smart kid. He'd have something insightful to say to that, surely.

 

"So... how good was the kiss? Swoon worthy? Does he have soft lips? Is he a butt-grabber?"

 

Peter didn't feel a damn bit of shame knocking Steve over with the couch pillow.

 

* * *

Bucky hadn't slept in like this in a _very_ long time. After he'd watched Steve tear off down the street in an obvious tizzy, he'd let himself inside the apartment and called for Brock. Sure enough, the guy had been home and the two of them bonded again over a few beers. It hadn't taken Bucky long to get tired and decide to hit the sack; curling up on the fold-out sofa for the night. He'd barely even made it into a pair of pajama pants before he was snoring away; thinking of Steve and the first night home in years.

 

When he woke the next morning, Brock had taken off for the day, leaving a hastily scrawled note on the counter telling Bucky to help himself to food but to clean up after himself. He could oblige that. So after a quick breakfast, Bucky set about rifling through his bag for clothes he could wear at the pier. It was a surprisingly warm October day, so he'd figured a light jacket would do him well.

 

As he was digging through the clothes, he heard a sharp knock at the door and he looked up. Frown crossing his features, he made his way to the door, only to find that no one stood on the other side at all. What he did find, however, was a letter sticking out of the mailslot. No stamp, no return address. Just his name written across the envelope in a painfully familiar script. "No way.." he chuckled, plucking the letter out and re-entering the apartment.

 

Thumbing the paper open, Bucky pulled the letter out and sat down on the fold-out couch, letting his eyes skim over the words. Whatever apprehension Steve had been feeling the night before had obviously melted away finally. There was no denying this was the little punk he'd been writing to for over a year.

 

**_  
_**

Bucky read the letter over again, his smile brightening impossibly so. Home from war, and the guy was still writing him letters. That was impossibly romantic. How the hell did he get so lucky?

 

Bucky grinned to himself, grabbing his jeans and darting into the bathroom. It was already noon. There was no way in hell he was going to let Steve wait too long outside the gates, that's for sure. As he climbed into the shower, he let his mind wander back to the day before. He squeezed a dollop of shampoo into his hand, lathering his hair up in a relaxing massage to let himself think. Steve was so cute... being so nervous in person and so forthcoming in letters. He really needed to fix that, and soon.

 

He washed himself quickly; toweling off and dressing in record time. He ran a comb through his hair for a few swipes, styling the longer locks back from his forehead and grabbing Brock's gel from the cabinet. He could buy him a new bottle in thanks later.

 

Satisfied that he looked half presentable, Bucky grabbed his wallet and cigarettes from his backpack; he stuffed them into his jacket pocket and left the apartment, thinking of the day to come with a smile on his lips.

 

It didn't take him long to walk the distance from Brock's apartment to the bus that would take him directly to Coney Island. As he walked, he checked his phone for the reservation confirmation, satisfying himself with the knowledge that the day would go swimmingly from this point. Maybe after a night of sleeping on it, Steve would have relaxed some. He just really hoped he could hold his hand again.

 

At approximately 1:45, Bucky finally clambered off of the bus and made his way for the agreed meeting spot. Despite the warmth of the day, the sky was slightly bleary and gray. The rides were up and operable still, and the boardwalk was bustling with people, but it was clear that the winter break-down was coming soon. Some of the shops and stands were still closed, even at this time in the afternoon. At least they'd get a decent day in before the pier closed for the winter.

 

Bucky spotted Steve standing by the gates, checking his phone every few minutes. He smiled, cupping his hands around his mouth to call to him. "STEVE!" he shouted, his voice lofting over the crowd as he shouted for him.

 

Steve didn't look up.

 

Frowning, Bucky wove his way through the crowd closer to him and called again. Still, Steve didn't look up at him. Briefly, Bucky wondered if the other had forgotten his hearing aid this morning, and a frown crossed his lips. "HEY, STEVE! EARTH TO STEVE!"

 

Finally, he got a reaction out of him. Steve looked up, seemingly surprised by the shouting, and his eyes flew wildly over the crowd. Bucky grinned, waving his hands at him as he made his way over. "There you are! I was calling you, didn't you hear me?" Bucky asked, grinning at him.

 

Steve swallowed, looking a little apprehensive as he tapped at his ear. Bucky could see the little ear piece in his ear and he frowned deeper still. No forgotten hearing aid.

 

"Hey.. Buck!" Steve replied, smiling a little sheepishly as he shrugged and made his way over. "Sorry, didn't hear you. Think I have to.. uh... replace the batteries in this thing." He added, offering him an apologetic smile, "I got the tickets for Luna Park already. Wanna head in?"

 

Bucky nodded. "Hell yeah, let's get this show on the road!" he replied. Reaching down, Bucky threaded their hands together, giving Steve’s fingers a gentle squeeze.

 

Almost immediately, Steve tugged his hand free from Bucky's, giving him a wild-eyed look and a nervous chuckle. Bucky frowned, dropping his hand to his side. Okay... so maybe Steve hadn't adjusted to this yet. He could deal with this. They _had_ just met for the first time the day before...

Still, he couldn't help but feel a little hurt. After talking for so long, and the cute letter he'd gotten earlier, surely Steve shouldn't feel embarrassed to be seen in public with him. "Uh... sure, sorry about that. Forgot about the PDA thing."

 

"PDA.... yeah!" Steve added, jumping on the statement for a moment before laughing nervously. "Yeah, sorry just... c'mon, lets go inside!" Side by side, the two of them passed the gates, handing over their tickets to the attendant and getting their hand stamps. "So uh... what time is the reservation tonight?"

 

Bucky smiled, grateful that Steve was at least mindful of the whole purpose of their meeting. At least he still saw it as a date. "It's at 5pm at Gargiulo's. Italian and seafood all at once seemed like a good idea to me." he chuckled, looking up at him.

 

Steve nodded, offering him a smile in return before his eyes roamed over the attractions in Luna Park. "Let's go get in line for the rides. Before they shut them down for the winter," he added, motioning for the two of them to make their way through the bustling crowd.

 

Bucky nodded, his eyes landing on the Wonder Wheel before he pointed. "Wanna go on there? It's kind of a tradition to go on the Wonder Wheel at least three times before we leave." he chuckled, bumping shoulders with him.

 

Steve looked down at him, his eyes wide. "Uh sure.. don't you wanna go on the Cyclone, though? Before the line gets too long?" he asked, holding up two of the ride tickets in his hand.

 

Bucky paused, staring up at him for a moment before his eyes landed on the tickets. Sure enough, they were marked for the Cyclone. "The Cyclone? Isn't that..." he paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "Isn't that bad for people with back problems?" He tilted his head a little at Steve, wondering what in the hell was in the man's head. Surely, the Cyclone was the _last_ ride Steve would want to go on for his scoliosis…

 

Steve paused, looking down at him for a moment before his eyes widened a bit. He seemed to be in an internal battle with himself for a moment, and Bucky's eyes narrowed slightly. "Uhh... I can... It's cool! It's your first day back, Buck! I wouldn't want you to miss out on anything fun because of my dumb back," Steve said finally, offering him a weak smile. "Besides... they're already bought."

 

Bucky stared at him for a moment before giving up. That was beyond weird. Then again, Steve seemed like he was the kind of person to give up a lot for someone. Maybe he really had only thought of Bucky's interests instead of his own issues. Still, Bucky couldn't shake the feeling that Steve had just... _forgotten_ that he couldn't go on the ride. It was an irrational thought, but the bug-eyed stare and the flustered expression... he almost felt like he'd caught him out in a lie. "Okay then. Just when we get off- if your back is killing you, we can skip the rest of the rides. I just wanted to spend the day with you anyway..."

 

Steve seemed to accept that answer, and he smiled down at him. With the issue dropped, the two of them got in line for the rollercoaster, chattering idly about their night and the possibility of grabbing a couple beers from the boardwalk pub. Bucky tried, he really did, to sidle up closer to Steve's side and garner a bit of affection from him. He didn't give a flying fuck if anyone stared at them. They were on a date, for God's sake.

 

But with each inch Bucky took, Steve stepped back two. It felt... wrong, all over the place, that Steve was still shying away from him now. _'It's only been 24 hours, dumbass...'_ Bucky thought to himself; trying to shove the feeling of "not right" from his head as they made their way to the rollercoaster car and got inside. _'Give the guy some time. It'll all be ok...'_

 

* * *

The sun was beginning to set as they made their way from the Wonder Wheel and towards the pub. They had gotten the majority of the rides in the park taken care of and still had about an hour before they had to make it to their reservations; a couple of ice cold beers sounded just about right at that moment. Bucky stayed right at Steve's side the whole walk, making sure to turn his head and talk directly into Steve's ear as he spoke.

 

It hadn't taken long before something had gone wrong at the park. The moment the two of them got off the very first ride, Steve had complained pretty profusely about his back aching. Of course, his apprehension had only grown the moment Bucky had mentioned that his hearing aid had falling out while they were on the ride. Weirdly enough, Steve hadn't seemed to notice it was gone until he'd mentioned it to him; the near panic attack he'd gotten when he'd discovered his earpiece was missing had been... rather beyond the level Bucky had expected. Maybe they were more expensive than he thought...

 

"Man!" Steve moaned, hobbling a little over exaggeratedly towards the bar and sat down with a huff. "I'm gonna... feel that tomorrow I think." He said, rubbing his lower back as he offered up Bucky a grin and a shrug. "All worth it for you though."

 

Bucky just grinned, shaking his head as he sat down next to him. "You're such a trooper. How could I ever repay you, Sir Steven?" he asked; leaning in and batting his eyes at him.

 

Steve laughed, sounding a little nervous as he shrugged a shoulder, digging his finger in his ear where the hearing aid had fallen from. "Uhh... I dunno. Roses and a candlelit dinner?"

 

"How fitting. I've already got that planned," Bucky retorted, grinning a little smugly at him before gesturing for the bartender to come over. He smiled when the girl came over and checked their ID's for them. "Two pale ales please. And a basket of the flatbread if you have it."

 

"Coming right up, sugar." the girl replied, winking at him before tapping them a couple glasses of beer. She slid them across the counter towards them, before she grabbed a tray of flatbread from underneath the warming lamps and set it off to the side.

 

Bucky handed her his credit card and plucked up a piece of bread. Yellow and baked crisp, just like he liked it; he smiled as he glanced over at Steve. A goofy thought crossed his mind as he watched his date and he quickly formulated his next course of action. Surely, this would bring the tension between them down. They'd always raved over letters about Tolkien.

 

Letting his face fall into a serious mask, Bucky stared at the bread in his hand before holding it up to Steve with a calm air. "Lembas!" he said, mocking an English accent. "Elvish waybread. One small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man!" With that, he took a dainty nibble of the bread and set it down on a napkin, before beaming at his date.

 

Steve looked up at him, his own piece halfway to his mouth before he froze, looking completely perplexed. "... What?"

 

Bucky halted, watching Steve with wide eyes. Steve stared right back at him, mouth hanging open and blinking in obvious confusion. "... You... Lembas Bread? Remember Pippin and Merry and the..." Bucky paused, letting his hand fall into his lap. "You don't remember _Lembas_ bread?"

 

Steve blinked, shaking his head. "Lumbar what?"

 

Bucky stared at him, feeling like his head wanted to burst. "How in the hell do you not remember Lembas bread? It's what the Fellowship lived off of for 9 months!"

 

Like a lightswitch, Steve's face lit up and he exclaimed. "Oooh! Lembas! Right! Sorry uhmm... back's hurting, can't think when it's doing that," he said. Plucking up his piece of the bread again with a sheepish chuckle, he held it up. "To Perry... ahm, Merry and Pippin!"

 

The silence that developed between them was almost oppressive. Bucky tore his gaze away from Steve, feeling like someone had punched him in the gut. There was _definitely_ something wrong if Steve didn't remember such a crucial fact like that. Wildly, he wondered if he'd just looked some shit up when he'd gotten his letter back from him that many months ago. Then again, he didn't know a lot of _guys_ that actually read Tolkien or seen the movies, either. If Steve had lied about liking Tolkien, he'd just given himself away, _big time_.

 

A sense of discomfort washed over him. He'd just made himself look like an idiot in front of someone whom he'd thought shared a similar interest as him. Great.

 

 _'Stop it!'_ he told himself, taking a sip of beer to give himself something to do. _'It's just one thing. Maybe he didn't want you to feel left out. You are a ridiculously huge nerd after all.'_ Listening to his own internal monologue, Bucky decided to shrug it off for the time being.

 

"So," he said, changing the subject and looking up at Steve. "So how's your work going? Anymore creeps coming in?"

 

Steve laughed, rubbing his hand over his forehead. "You have no idea. Bunch of dumbass sailors came in last week, I had to kick ‘em out. Half of 'em don’t realise that even though they're still on duty, doesn't mean I don't know how to take care of 'em."

 

Bucky nearly dropped his glass. Staring at Steve long and hard, he tried to read between the lines of his statement. That did _not_ sound like anything Steve had ever mentioned before. "Uh.... off duty? I thought you were an artist. I mean you sent me all those pictures, dude..."

 

The look of panic that crossed Steve's face would have been comical, if Bucky wasn't feeling like the fool played there. "Uhhm what... I mean, yeah! I drew myself as a sailor once.  All pin up style and everything! We get a bunch of schmucks in there that think they own the studio. Some of them are sailors. It's disgusting." A thought seemed to cross his mind and he perked up, looking down at him. "At least I got my painter sidekick, Margie, to work with."

 

"... Maggie." Bucky said, his voice pitching lower in suspicion. "Her name's Maggie..."

 

Steve flushed, digging his finger in his ear again before he looked down at the bartop, obviously uncomfortable. He cast a glance over his shoulder briefly, and Bucky glanced back, wondering what in the hell he was looking at. "Oh look at the time! It's almost five! We should... head to the restaurant now," Steve blurted out, jumping to his feet.

 

Bucky stared at him, his face pulled in a heavy frown and knit brows. "Back must be feeling better," he said lowly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Despite the suspicious glances he kept casting Steve, Bucky felt the lowest of low. He'd clearly been played. First day back, and already he was wishing he was back with Falsworth and the guys…

 

"Yeah! Just needed to sit down for awhile. C'mon!" Steve exclaimed, a little too loudly. He reached out, grabbing Bucky by the elbow and dragging him from the bar. "Lemur bread isn't cutting it. I'm starving!"

 

As he was pulled from the bar towards the brightly lit restaurant down the block, Bucky felt like his feet were dragging in mud. He kept casting side glances at Steve the entire walk, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. While he'd previously anticipated holding hands with Steve again, now it just felt like Steve's fingers were hot pokers digging into his skin. He knew he was blushing with humiliation. He didn't have any clue what Steve's endgame was, but if this turned out to be what he thought it was…Bucky _wasn’t_ the kind of guy who just wanted a quick screw. He assumed Steve hadn’t been that type either, but now it seemed like this man knew nothing of their correspondences. Like he’d only been saying what he thought Bucky wanted to hear. Was that really the game? It didn’t make sense. Why go through all this trouble right now? Why indulge Bucky at all? Was it some kind of prank? Some, long, drawn-out, sick joke against a guy in the military who’d been lonely? If that was it...Bucky wasn’t going to take kindly to this...

 

Sighing heavily, Bucky shoved his hand into his pocket, plucking out his cigarettes and popping a filter into his mouth. He needed a smoke badly now. Tugging his hand free, Bucky flicked his Zippo open to a calming orange flame; he relished the feel of the nicotine soothing his irritated nerves as he walked alongside Steve. Inhaling a deep drag, Bucky let the smoke ebb out into the chilly air around him like a cloud.

 

But just then, a gust of a breeze blew the smoke in the wrong direction, and right into Steve's face. Without thinking, Bucky glanced up, his eyes widening before he tugged Steve back a pace. "Whoa, sorry! Didn't think it was gonna go in your face. You need your inhaler?"

 

Steve stumbled backwards at the tug, looking up at Bucky with a frown. "It's fine. It's just smoke."

 

He didn't wait for Bucky to follow. He didn’t see the betrayed look that crossed Bucky’s face. Instead, he turned abruptly on his heel and made for the restaurant, leaving the ex-soldier standing on the boardwalk, feeling for all the world like he was the biggest fool of them all.

 

* * *

Bucky stared down at the menu in front of him, not daring to look up at Steve as they waited for the waitress to bring them their beers. He didn't know if he was going to get drunk or not, but anything was better than feeling this bone-deep sense of deception. Steve had lied to him, it was obvious now. Lied to him about everything.

 

 _'Why the hell did you get attached to someone over a fucking PENPAL program? It’s not like you could have gotten to know the real person, you idiot.'_ he chided himself, looking up at Steve. Steve was hiding behind his own menu now. Obviously, the day had only gone from bad to worse for both of them, and they were both feeling the burn. Steve, for getting caught out in lie after lie, and Bucky for believing every single one of them.

 

As he stared at the flushing man across from him, Bucky had one more thought. It was his ace in the hole. If Steve passed this question, he could talk to him about why he'd felt it necessary to lie to him about such petty, little things. If he didn't... then there was no way in hell he was going to continue on with trying to make this a real relationship. The romance had obviously only been felt on one side of it; the other had just turned it into a big damn joke. The fairytale had obviously ended the moment he'd gotten off of the gangway and stepped through the gate at the airport. Maybe Steve wasn’t sure what his sexuality was? Maybe this had been some kind of social experiment for him? Bucky couldn’t exactly fault a guy for being curious...but to _use_ a guy...that was a horse of a different color.

 

"So... Stevie." Bucky started, looking up at him with a small smile as he plucked his beer from the table to take a sip. "How was Maggie doing today? You put a letter in Brock's mailslot for me, telling me how you had to help her finish a project. I thought it was cute that you described her as a little Picasso."

 

Steve looked up at him, his cheeks flushed. "Uh... Yeah. Yeah! She's getting real good. I'll have to show you her work sometime. Real little Picasso she's becoming." His voice was tight; uncertain.

 

Bucky stared at him, his eyes narrow and his face drawn in disgust. Fuck. That was it. Hurt, Bucky put the glass down on the table with a little more force than necessary, making the other man across from him jump. Feeling irrationally betrayed, Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh, staring at the tabletop. "Yeah.. that's what I thought," he murmured, pushing his chair back from the table and turning to leave. "I gotta go."

 

"Hey wait! Where are you going?" Steve asked, standing up from the table and staring at him with panic-stricken eyes.

 

Whirling back on him, Bucky glared at Steve, his hands pressed to the tablecloth beneath them. "You didn't describe her as Picasso. You said _Dali_. As in Salvador Dali? I may not be an artist, but I know who the famous ones are. Clearly you don't. Is there _anything_ about you that's real, Steve? Because, lemme tell you, if this _whole year_ of us writing back and forth was some sick trick just to get in my pants…” he paused, inhaling to stop the flood of anger he felt in his chest. “Or if this was some pity party you played to make fun of the _gay_ soldier with a soft side, you've got another thing coming."

 

Staring at him long and hard, Bucky felt his chest constricting. Of course he'd let himself fall in love with some idiot who got his kicks like this... "Look.. whatever you had planned… This between us... this isn't going to work out. I think we’re both on the not-compatible side. So… thanks for picking me up at the airport… But you can delete my number from your phone.”

 

Turning to leave the restaurant, Bucky felt the lowest of low. He shoved his hands in his pockets. Why the hell did he let himself fall for this guy? He’d always been a romantic one, but he’d _never_ had someone lie to him to this magnitude before. Hell, he’d almost _cried_ when he’d gotten all those letters from Steve after he got hurt. Seemed like Steve didn’t really give a flying shit about him after all. He’d been nothing but a big joke the whole time. Vaguely Bucky wondered how much Steve was winning in a bet right now, making a gay soldier fall in love with him and then breaking him in two like this.

 

However, he barely made it two steps from the table before Steve called to him, sounding desperate.

 

“Bucky, WAIT!” he called. When Bucky turned to face him again, he couldn’t believe the look of remorse that crossed his features. “Buck just… sit down. There’s something I need to tell you.”

 

Bucky scoffed, but he hesitated. Common sense told him to leave now and just forget this whole thing ever happened. But… the look of concern on Steve’s face was more genuine than he’d seen in a long time. So against his better judgement, Bucky turned back for the table and sat down. He leveled Steve with a long glare; tapping his fingers in annoyance on the table. “I’m listening.”

 

Steve watched him for a moment before his head fell forward. A huff left him as he scrubbed his fingers through his hair tiredly. “I knew this wasn’t going to end well…” he murmured. “Wait here.” WIth that, Bucky watched Steve leave the table and go to a far side of the room. He stopped at a table, bending down to talk to someone. When he turned back, the man he’d spoken to rose up from his chair and followed him, looking like _he_ was the kicked puppy after all.

 

“What the hell…” Bucky murmured, watching as the two of them made their way over. It only took him a moment to realize that whomever was following Steve… he’d seen him before. Like… the _day_ before. “What the hell?” He said louder; his eyes widening. “You’re that kid from the airport.”

 

Steve nodded, looking down at the small man next to him, pressing his hand to his back. “Bucky… this is Steve Rogers.” he murmured, looking at the soldier. “This is the guy you were writing with for a year. We were both kind of hoping that this wouldn’t have happened this way but… don’t leave, okay? Just… hear us out.”

 

Bucky felt like he’d been slapped all over again. His eyes ghosted over the smaller man who looked like he was about to cry or have another asthma attack. A small bout of sympathy overcame him before he steeled his shoulders again. This was the most fucked up 24 hours he’d had in awhile, that was for sure. “So… you’re _both_ Steve?” he asked, sounding utterly confused. Was this a prank then? One wrote the letters and the other messed with him when he came home?

 

The taller man shook his head, looking down at the short blond next to him. “No. My name isn’t Steve. It’s Peter Quill. I’m one of Steve’s best friends. When Steve started talking to you, he took one of my pictures and put it in the envelope to send to you. Which, Imma add I had no idea about at first,” Peter explained pointedly as his eyes darted over to the “other” Steve. “I have _not_ been the one writing to you this whole time. It’s all been him.”

 

The shorter blond man finally looked up. His gaze met Bucky’s, and a shaky breath left him. Bucky stared at the smaller man for a moment, his earlier anger melting away entirely. He was _gorgeous_. Fine bones; small and delicate, and oh so tender. Bucky bit his lip, watching Steve shiver sadly in front of him, as if expecting to get screamed at and told to leave. By rights, Bucky knew he probably should have. Instead, he found himself slumping in his seat, staring up at Steve… No, _Peter_ , and he frowned. “So… you both were in on this?”

 

“No!” Peter interjected, waving his hand. “No, I didn’t find out until _months_ into you two talking. Steve came to me and admitted he used my picture. I agreed to talk on the phone with you that day, and then to pick you up from the airport, but that’s it. Everything else you two talked about... that was all Steve. I had nothing to do with the letter writing. I swear.”

 

At this point, the real Steve chose to speak up and voice his side of the story. “Peter’s right. He had nothing to do with the letters. It’s all been just you and me,” he murmured. He kept his eyes downcast and was fiddling with his fingers. Bucky was stunned, and _pleased_ , to find that Steve had a chocolatey smooth voice; he was clearly a baritone, which was surprising coming out of such a small and precious man. “Bucky.. I’m so sorry I lied to you. I just.. I thought that if you knew what I really looked like you wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore.. And I _really_ loved talking to you. You’re more important to me than I could ever say. And I’m so… so sorry I lead you on like that…” Steve trailed off at the end of his sentence, his voice quaking slightly. He looked like he was ready to beat himself stupid for the whole thing and burst into tears… Maybe both at the same time. “If you’re angry with me… I’ll leave and I’ll never bother you again. I swear it… Just… know that I’m _so_ sorry, Bucky…”

 

Bucky stared at the two of them, his gaze flicking from one man to the other; just processing everything that was explained to him. He should be angry. He should be _furious_. Not for the appearance thing, hell no; Steve, the _real_ Steve, was everything Bucky adored in his ideal partner. Steve was _beautiful_. Sure, Peter was hot, he couldn’t deny that, but he just… he couldn’t shake the somewhat shallow feeling of being _relieved_ that Peter _wasn’t_ Steve.

 

No, Bucky wanted to be angry that they had both lied to him for so long about this, and not come out and just _say_ it. Why the _hell_ would Steve think Bucky wouldn’t like him anymore if he knew he looked like this? Were people that against such a gorgeous little flower like him? Sure, small guys weren’t everyone’s cup of tea, but to Bucky… He’d drink those lithe shoulders in day in and day out.

 

He’d obviously taken too long to muse over his thoughts. He watched as Steve’s shoulders slumped in dejection. He watched as Peter clapped a hand to his back, pulling him close to his side for comfort and mumbled that they should leave. By rights, Bucky knew he should let them both go and forget this whole lie had ever happened. He _should_ have...

 

He didn’t.

 

“Hey,” he said, sitting up in his seat. When Steve and Peter turned back to him, Bucky shrugged a shoulder, looking down at his lap before offering up a small smile. “Where are you going? I think we have a date to finish.” Bucky paused for dramatic effect, and then nearly laughed when Steve balked, his mouth hanging open in shock.

 

“Wh-what?... You wanna… you wanna finish the date.. with _me_?” Steve asked, wringing his hands in his t-shirt nervously. Steve looked up at Peter, who only answered with an equally perplexed look.

 

Bucky nodded, smiling at him. “Yeah… I mean, if you wanna that is. I _did_ go through the trouble of making sure these reservations were for the best seat in the house,” he added, looking up at the small blond with a cheeky smile. Turning his attention to Peter, Bucky extended his hand to him. “Peter… it was a pleasure to meet you. You’re a really good friend you know that? Letting me kiss you like that, for Steve. Which is now extremely embarrassing.”

 

Peter flushed, shaking his hand and nodding. “Yeah...I’d do anything for Steve. Just.. don’t kiss me again? I’m heavily invested in Taco Tuesday, if ya know what I mean.”

 

Bucky barked a laugh, looking down at the table. “Yeah.. sorry about that. Uhm… yeah...I know what Taco Tuesday is…” He flicked his brow once, pushing the vivid image out of his head. “Steve?” He added, gesturing to the vacant chair across from him. “We haven’t ordered yet….”

 

The look of uncertainty and _hope_ that crossed Steve’s face was enough to melt Bucky’s heart. He smiled, watching as the petite blond sat across from him; staring at him like he’d seen an angel. Glancing up in time to see Peter beat a hasty retreat from the restaurant, Bucky fought the irrational giggle that tried to leave him. What a fucked up 24 hours this had been, indeed…

 

“So..” Bucky murmured, leaning over the table and leveling Steve with a piercing glance. “Please tell me you know what Lembas bread is…

 

* * *

Bucky smiled, feeling the slight buzz of a few beers running rampant in his veins. It was late, _very_ late, by the time the restaurant had to kick them both out for the night. He glanced down at his watch and smirked. It was well past midnight at this point; he and Steve had stayed in the restaurant together for _7 hours_ , just talking and laughing and enjoying their dinner...and dessert...and more dessert. It was a complete 180 from the earlier discomfort of trying to “date” Peter for the day. He felt right at home with Steve across from him, just like he’d felt when he read his letters.

 

They talked about everything and anything they possibly could. He quizzed Steve on things they’d discussed in their letters, and he was more than elated to realize that Steve had been telling the truth earlier: they had _truly_ been corresponding throughout the whole year together.

 

God, Bucky could not take his eyes off of Steve. He felt like he was looking at his very own little angel, all blond hair and fine musculature, long artistic hands, and bright blue eyes that shone in the candles of the restaurant and the glaze of beer in his tiny system.

 

When the restaurant had regretfully sent them on their way, Bucky immediately threw his arm around Steve’s shoulders to steady the lightweight from his buzz. He smiled down at him, keeping him close to his side for warmth as they walked to the bus stop that would take them the dozen blocks home.

 

“I’ll make sure you get to your place alright, and then I’ll head home myself.” Bucky said, giving Steve’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

 

“But.. won’t you get cold walking home?” Steve asked, looking up at him with a mask of concern on his features. Jesus, Bucky wanted nothing more than to kiss the look right off of his face.

 

“Nah. I lived in a desert for how long? It gets colder there at night than this.” He shrugged.

 

The bus ride wasn't too horribly long. They were, after all, the only passengers aboard. When they got off at Steve’s stop, Bucky looked up with a surprised glance, grinning stupidly. “No way! This is right by where I’m staying. I’m literally two blocks away from here.”

 

Steve beamed, looking up at him before he glanced down at the ground. “That’s great! At least you won’t get cold walking home…” he detailed; sounding a little shy.

 

Bucky paused; the two of them standing outside the brownstone together. He looked down at Steve, noting the way he wouldn't dare look at him now. “Hey…” he whispered, tilting his head up. “Stop beating yourself up over earlier. It happened. It could have been a hell of a lot worse. It was just a picture, Steve. At least you didn't lie about everything. Those letters were all you. You shouldn't feel so self-conscious about the way you look.” He paused, smiling at him. “I like it.”

 

Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes for a moment. “And how do I know you’re not lying to try and make _me_ feel better? No one likes the way I look. I’m not manly or strong or anything. A stiff _breeze_ knocks me over. At least I didn't ride the Cyclone with you and Peter. I would have puked all over you both.”

 

“Yeah, about that…” Bucky chuckled, grinning at him. “Were you stalking us all day?”

 

When Steve only nodded, looking highly embarrassed as a rush of red grazed his ears, Bucky rolled his eyes. “Oh stop. It’s funny! This whole thing is funny!” Bucky paused, waiting for Steve’s reaction. He seemed a _little_ more comfortable now as he offered Bucky a timid smile that suggested he found today to have been amusing. That was good at least.

 

As he watched him, a wild thought crossed the soldier’s mind. Glancing up and down the dark sidewalk, he smiled a little. “So… how do you feel about PDA when it’s dark out?” he asked, grinning down at him. When Steve shot him a confused look, Bucky took his chance.

 

Cupping the sides of Steve’s face, Bucky pulled him close, letting their breaths mingle for a moment. Noses brushed in a soft touch, and he smiled, letting his eyes drift shut. He leaned in, the soft caress of lips sending jolts of delight up and down his body. Their lips slotted together perfectly, kissing with a slow, tender motion that had the both of them leaning into each other. Steve had the fullest, softest lips Bucky had ever felt in his life. He smiled into the kiss, caressing his fingers up and down the side of Steve’s neck as he pressed forward. The tip of his tongue darted out just slightly, teasing the crease in Steve’s lips just barely.

 

When Steve gasped in surprise, he delved in, licking gently into his mouth to savor his taste. Steve tasted like ambrosia and honey, despite the garlic they’d eaten earlier that evening, or maybe that’s because Bucky found Steve flawless. Bucky could get drunk on this kiss. He could feel the shorter man digging his fingers into the back of his shirt and he chuckled; teasing Steve to return the kiss in kind. When he felt a tentative brush of tongue against his own, he melted, holding Steve close to his front.

 

Moments ticked by before they finally broke the kiss. He pressed his forehead to Steve’s, staring at him long and hard before he smiled down at him. “I think you’re pretty okay with PDA, in my opinion.” He whispered, nipping the blond’s lower lip before he pulled away.

 

Steve looked dazed. He simply stared up at Bucky for a long moment, as if trying to figure out if this had really happened. Bucky snickered, pressing his hand to the small of Steve’s back. “Go inside. It’s cold out. Just, uh… call me in the morning, okay? I wanna take you out again… if you want.”

 

Steve simply nodded at him, a dopey smile crossing his features as he turned for the steps. Bucky watched the small man climb the stairs in front of him, glancing back over his shoulder repeatedly at Bucky, as if to make sure he hadn’t just hallucinated that.

 

Bucky waited until Steve was safely inside before he left. He was rather glad he had. He got to see the blond start jumping up and down and squealing from beyond the curtain that obscured the door’s window, clearly elated by the kiss that had swept him off his feet (Bucky was pretty confident in his kissing skills after all). He’d barely even gotten the door closed before he exploded in a fit of excitement.

 

Bucky laughed, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he made his way down the block to head back to Brock’s house. He glanced over his shoulder back at Steve’s apartment, staring at the building for a long moment before an idea took root in his head. Steve had started the game that morning, with a letter. They’d been brought together by the penpal program.

 

The game was on, and Bucky needed to get his hands on some stationary and pens. Immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 will be passed back to L1av's capable hands. Hope you guys enjoyed chapter 2!!


	3. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone is as perfect as they seem...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> L1av back for the 3rd chapter. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! for all your support, comments, kudos, whatever. Shares on tumblr, ect, ect. Me and Nerd are having an absolute blast making this world for you and we really appreciate hearing/bonding with you all over it. <333333
> 
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> This fic has a photoset and it's located here: [Click me!](http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/post/124681158988/ps-i-love-you-explicit-410-chapters-updates/)

Steve fumbled with the buttons on his jacket as he waited next to the door to his apartment building for Bucky. Apparently sometime during the night, Bucky had found it within himself to march back over to Steve’s, smack a post-it on the door and then wait patiently for Steve to actually go outside his apartment to see the post-it and finally text him about it. Either Bucky hated sleeping, or he was the most amazing human on the planet and Steve wanted to cry from all the attention and sudden devotion. Steve was used to Bucky’s flirtatious speech in writing, he was used to Bucky’s compliments...on paper. Having Bucky here, having Bucky be able to _walk to Steve’s door_ and drop a post-it note was practically unimaginable. Why? Because Steve was nothing that Bucky should love. Bucky was rippling muscles, tanned skin and big, beautiful, almond-shaped eyes. He was perfect hair, wide smile, and soft lips. Steve… 

Steve didn’t exactly relish the idea of listing out all the reasons Bucky _shouldn’t_ be with him. Though at the top of the list, Steve couldn’t shake that he’d _lied_ to Bucky. He’d lied and Bucky...still gave him a chance. It wasn’t just a simple, “No I didn’t steal the cookies,” kind of lie either. It was the kind people never trusted you again; you are scum on the earth kind of a lie. Steve had thrown Bucky through the ringer and Bucky just...forgave that? Or had he not? Was he being tolerant for the sake of pitying Steve? Maybe he felt bad for him. Steve was skinny. Steve was sick. Steve was everything the genetic lottery didn’t want. Steve was… 

His phone vibrated in his back pocket. Distracted from his thoughts, Steve pulled out his phone; swiping at the notification to see who it was. Peter’s name flashed on the screen. 

 **< Have you talked to Natasha yet?>** 

Smiling, Steve flicked to make a new message. Truth be told, he hadn’t gotten a chance to yet. He should have though. Not many people would have done what Peter did for Steve. He’d text Nat now, that way he could answer Peter without feeling like a jerk. His lithe fingers tapped away at the screen, inquiring to Nat how she felt about Peter. Steve was pretty sure Natasha found Peter attractive. The bigger question would be if she found Peter _tolerable_. Steve would be the first person to admit that Peter was a very special brand of person. Though, so was Steve… It took a special kind of person to use their best friend’s picture, fall in love with a soldier, and then send said best friend on a date with said soldier because one found himself inadequate. That was also a special brand of person. 

After he was finished texting Nat, he saw Bucky come into view down the street. _Jesus_ , that man didn’t just walk. He practically hovered over the concrete as his powerful legs carried him to wherever he wanted to go. To say Bucky had a “strut” was an understatement. He was a damn supermodel with the confidence and sculpted perfection to match. _‘Why do you waste your time with me?’_

Impatient, Steve opened the glass door and met Bucky halfway. Bucky’s face lit up in the most _breathtaking_ of smiles; the corners of his delicate lips upturning as if the heavens had sent two angels to kiss the sides of his lips. Steve felt his cheeks heat up. Bucky looked effortlessly put together with a scarf casually wrapped around his neck, hair perfectly wind-tossed and Steve...Steve just realized he accidentally missed a button hole at the bottom of his jacket; resulting in one side being longer than the other. He turned around quickly; hands shaking as he attempted to fix his mistake. He was a grown man and he was still struggling to figure out how to button up a jacket?!

“Steve? You okay?” Bucky asked instead of getting to properly greet Steve. Steve wouldn’t lie (not that anyone was asking) he fantasized about the greeting kiss he saw all couples give each other. He loved the delicate softness those greetings had. They said so much but displayed so little. Now, Steve was red in the face and shaking as his cold fingers struggled to get the buttons to work correctly. 

“M’ fine,” Steve mumbled as he creased his brow; trying to concentrate more on the buttons. _‘I’m just wasting your time. Don’t mind me...’_  

Bucky walked around Steve, eyeing his obvious losing battle with his jacket. “Buttons being jerks?” Bucky asked with a cocked brow.

“My fingers won’t stop shaking,” Steve answered. His eyes went round as he realized his error. _‘No! Please don’t think I’m nervous! I’m nervous but I don’t want you knowing I’m nervous!’_ “Fingers are cold,” he corrected in hopes Bucky wouldn’t catch on.

Bucky cracked a crooked, half-smile. “Lemme help,” he suggested as he reached out and took hold of Steve’s jacket. “Y’should be wearing gloves with fingers as small as yours.” Bucky skillfully buttoned up the jacket. Steve wanted to curse this jacket. Of course it’d cooperate for Bucky. What human or inanimate object wouldn’t? Bucky looked like...well Bucky and Steve...Steve looked like the kind of person you walked on by despite seeing him shivering and wheezing in the rain.

“They’re not _that_ small,” Steve quipped. He outstretched his fingers, biting his lower lip softly in embarrassment. They _were_ small; more like fleshen twigs that were part of a sprouting tree that never seemed to truly take root. Steve hated his hands. They weren’t his least favorite part of himself, but they were on the list of countless bits of himself that Steve found to be left wanting.

Bucky grabbed Steve’s hands, forcing Steve to look on in surprise with his lips parted when Bucky went down to his knees before Steve. He placed a kiss; silken and too soft for Steve’s rough, dry hands, on each digit. “I think you mistake “small” for bad,” Bucky said softly between kisses. He kissed the pads of Steve’s fingers. Steve looked around the street, praying no one was watching them. While he was sure Bucky could beat someone up without breaking a sweat, Steve wouldn’t have such confidence in himself. “Small things just need to be given more respect for what they are. Bigger isn’t always better.”

Steve couldn’t respond. The back of his throat was drying from the chilled wind that lapped at his face; blowing Bucky’s bangs around lazily. He blinked a few times, watching Bucky stand up and offer the most careless shrug, as if what he said hadn’t been one of the most beautiful things Steve had ever heard. 

Respect. Bucky wasn’t suggesting Steve was _fragile_ or easily broken; he was suggesting Steve was unique; strong in his own right. _Respect._ Not “to be cared for” or tucked away...to be respected. Equals were respected. Weak things were “cared for.” 

“Y-you,” Steve uttered before his throat clamped up and he felt his heart sputter in his chest; almost like it was running in circles frantically. He fished out his inhaler, turning from Bucky as he put the apparatus to his lips and sucked back the medication. 

Bucky said nothing. His eyes didn’t round in pity, his body language didn’t become hesitant. He simply waited for Steve...like an equal. 

Steve gave himself a brief moment to bring himself out of shock. He looked down at his correctly buttoned jacket; sniffing once as the cold tickled his nose. “Ready?” he asked. 

Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand; lacing their fingers and caressing his thumb against the back of Steve’s hand. “Whenever you are.”

 

* * *

 

 **< Hey! This is the bestest best friend in the history of best friends! Talk to Nat yeeeeet?>** Peter texted. Steve ran his tongue along his teeth as he looked down at his phone. Nat hadn’t responded yet. Steve didn’t expect anyone to be hanging around their phone and available at the drop of a dime, but he didn’t want to respond to Peter till he heard from Nat. So again, he put his phone back into his jacket pocket and slipped up to Bucky as Bucky held the door to the art museum open for him. 

Bucky walked in behind Steve, grabbing his hand again as they walked into the lobby of the Museum of Modern Art. “I hope you know I brought you here so you can impress me with all your art knowledge. I expect an art history lesson.”

Steve chuckled under his breath. “What, I’m not impressive enough already?” Before the words were completely retorted back, Steve was already feeling the jab in his gut. No. No he wasn’t impressive. Why he even thought that was a remotely good comeback was beyond him, but it was out and Steve had no choice but to allow the warmth rush into his cheeks as he averted his gaze from Bucky. He didn’t want to see the pity that would no doubt flash behind those sparking, stormy eyes. _‘But he respects you...’_  

Bucky threw his head back in laughter. “Oh trust me, I already think you belong on display in an art museum. But,” Bucky drawled. “I’m kind of selfish.” He wrapped his arm over Steve’s shoulder, pulling him in so Steve could lean his head against Bucky’s chest.

Steve allowed a soft, unsure smile to ghost over his lips. Bucky was too charming. Surely it couldn’t be sincere, right? Did he really think this way? Did he honestly _really_ find a guy like Steve good-looking? He was here, wasn’t he? He was electing to spend his day with Steve and not some beefcake off Grindr. That meant he was sincere, right? Steve felt his stomach practically cave in on itself as he stressed over Bucky’s intentions. It felt like he was trying to digest rocks. 

“Which hall do you wanna go to first?” Bucky asked. 

Steve looked up at the signs advertising the various exhibits. He wasn’t entirely thrilled about the photography exhibit on Yoko Ono. “Let’s…” he mused. “Drawings and paintings?” 

Bucky’s face morphed into a shimmering smile of approval; his eyes crinkling with the beginnings of crow’s feet. Steve had to remember to keep breathing. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he exclaimed joyously; rolling on his feet. Bucky pulled Steve along by the hand, careful not to yank him but firm enough to exude his bubbling excitement.

Steve would never cease to be amazed by how _expressive_ Bucky was. When he smiled, his whole body radiated with happiness. When he’d looked at Steve at the airport...his aura was pouring into Steve, smothering him with actual concern. Bucky was a soldier. He’d seen _horrors_ , but he still found reasons to smile, to laugh… That kind of courage; that bravery… Steve could never find that within himself. 

They walked along the walls, looking at each drawing that was on display in the warm, yellow lighting from above. Bucky never stopped holding Steve’s hand. For the most part, no one seemed to mind them. This was an art museum after all. Steve wasn’t sure if his heart was scrambling up into his throat nervously from being around Bucky or because occasionally he’d get the long, awkward stare from a kid or a sneer from an adult. It never once occurred to Steve that they’d have an issue with him for being gay. Steve was absolutely sure they were measuring him _against_ Bucky. Steve wasn’t good enough for Bucky...and the whole world seemed to know it. 

Sighing, he dragged his feet just the slightest bit against the pale, hardwood flooring. Bucky looked down from the corner of his eye; the corners of his lips turning downward. “What’dya think about this piece?” Bucky asked as he jerked his head in the direction of one of his absolute favorite pieces. 

“Rene Margritte’s, _The Lovers_?” Steve asked. “I have a lot of thoughts about it.” 

Bucky laughed, shaking his head from side to side lightly. “Enlighten me, genius.” 

Steve swallowed hard; his brow knitting together slightly. Bucky was teasing Steve; he knew it. The slightly rough words still rubbed against him like sandpaper. “Well,” he began; raising his shoulders as he filled his lungs with as much oxygen as they’d take. “Stylistically, it’s practically flawless. The artist used similar colors for both the woman’s clothes and the wall, suggesting that she’s probably nothing special. The fabric clinging to the faces suggests that beauty isn’t necessarily the goal here. Love goes deeper than skin.” 

Steve looked up at Bucky from the painting. Bucky’s lips were parted and his eyes were round and alert; like a dog waiting to be pet by his master. He wasn’t just looking _at_ Steve. It was like he was waiting to be given the answer to the universe. Steve felt his ears go hot. He cleared his throat, looking back to the painting. “To me…” Steve began as he suddenly became acutely aware of how tight Bucky’s grip was on his hand. “To me, I think Margritte wasn’t trying to depict perfection. I think she was trying to depict how love is imperfect, but it doesn’t matter; it’s still love.” He closed his mouth; running his tongue along the backsides of his bottom teeth. He felt hot. Bucky’s hand was painfully warm against his skin. His heart was still clamoring up his throat in desperation and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath for the life of him. 

He pulled his hand away from Bucky, walking to the right and going up to another painting that depicted flawless use of both crosshatching and soft shading. He looked over his shoulder, spying Bucky still standing in front of Margritte’s painting. He was staring at it like he’d found the holy grail. Steve winced slightly as he tried to make out the serene facial expression on Bucky’s face. Before he could think further, he felt his phone vibrate again.

 **< You’re ignoring me. I know you. Need I remind you I LET HIM KISS ME?!?! THAT MAN PUT HIS TONGUE IN MY MOUTH, STEVE! IN MY MOUTH!!>** 

Steve cracked a smile; debating whether to actually respond or not. Part of him was secretly enjoying this. But he still hadn’t heard from Nat. He sighed through his nose, flicking over to Nat’s number and shooting her another text. This time he was a lot blunter about the situation of Peter inquiring about a date. 

“Texting while on a date, Stevie?” Bucky said dangerously close to Steve’s ear. Steve could feel his hot breath ghosting over his earlobe; he shivered. “I said impress me, not make me panic that I’m not good enough.”

Steve barked out a sardonic laugh. “You? Not good enough? Please, Buck. You own a mirror right?” 

Bucky scratched at the back of his neck; sporting that grin that could melt even the devil’s ire. “Actually...no. I’m homeless and unemployed right now, remember?”

Steve nodded softly. “Yeah, sorry...kinda forgot.” He dropped his chin lightly as he peered up at Bucky timidly. “Y-you thinking of getting a place?”

“Why? You wanna move out from your ma’s place?” Bucky teased, running his hand playfully through Steve’s blonde strands as they walked further along the exhibit. 

Steve’s spine stiffened as he felt his heart backflip. “N-no! I mean...I was just curious. Don’t know all your plans, I guess.” Steve felt his stomach cringe as he continued to put his foot in his mouth. Truth be told, he wasn’t thinking of asking Bucky to move in with him. He still wasn’t entirely sure why Bucky was even around right now. He just desperately wanted to know where he fit in with Bucky’s life. He wanted any clue, any sign he could get that Bucky was _really_ here because he _wanted_ to be. 

Bucky sighed heavily, blowing against his lips and making an adorable motor sound. An elderly woman shot him an angry look, but from the way he continued to hold himself high, clearly he didn’t care that much. “My plan…” he mused. “Find an apartment. Buy some furniture. Get all my GI Bill stuff squared away. Go to school. Hold your hand.” He slipped his fingers into Steve’s again. He cast him a cheeky look. “Look’s like I got one part of the plan taken care of.”

Steve suppressed the urge to pull back. Bucky’s hand felt _good_ wrapped around Steve’s. Their fingers lined up perfectly. Steve even liked that Bucky’s hands felt as rough as his own. Steve may have always been holding pencils, coal and oils and Bucky may have always been holding guns, knives and equipment, but they still had the same, rough hands; just different sizes. 

“Sound like a good plan, Stevie?” Bucky asked; his voice low and suggestive. Steve’s gaze immediately fixed on Bucky’s tongue as he caressed it against the corners of his own lips. 

_‘What do you see in me?’_

“Y-yeah,” Steve said softly as he looked to his feet. “Real good, Buck.” 

“Wanna go up to the sculptures and stare at some broken penises?” Bucky suggested casually. 

“You’re a five-year-old!” Steve laughed out. 

Bucky smiled that familiar, full-bodied smile. Steve could practically see gems sparkling beneath the man’s skin as he lit up the room. “You’re the one who drew me in kevlar armor with my ass out. Who's calling who what now?”

* * *

 

They’d spent several hours in the museum. Bucky of course made good on his word and did in fact stare at the statues that had long since lost their male anatomy. He made the occasional boob joke when they went up to a female statute, much to Steve’s embarrassment. 

Steve had never felt so...validated. Each time they went up to a new piece, Bucky would ask Steve of his opinion. He’d make Steve discuss the technique used on the art, the symbolism and what it meant to Steve. When Steve tried to do the same thing, Bucky would shrug and say he either liked or didn’t like a piece and follow up with a question for Steve. Before Steve knew it, he was discussing how pieces related to him as a child in comparison to now and even detailed a few too many embarrassing stories. 

Bucky wasn’t just beautiful. He was _exceedingly_ intelligent. He knew how to work his way around a conversation and he knew exactly what to ask that would get Steve to reveal just the tiniest bit more about himself. All Steve could do was fumble over questions to ask and feel his tongue slip into a knot as he attempted to pull the same level of charisma Bucky had used. It hadn’t been successful. 

After they made their rounds of the museum, Bucky had suggested they go to a cafe nearby and talk. Of course “cafe” apparently was code for “Starbucks” and so Steve sat near a gentle fireplace, caressing his body with soft heat, a mocha in his hand and a muffin on his plate. “Do you not eat sweets?” Steve asked as Bucky sat down with his chai tea. 

Bucky pursed his lips. “Not often.” He folded one leg underneath himself. “You like ‘em?” 

Steve nodded. “I like the occasional chocolate cake, yeah.”

Bucky laughed softly through his nose. “Maybe I’ll bake you one then.”

Steve scoffed lightly. “You don’t have to waste time on me like that.” 

The corners of Bucky’s lips dipped as he tilted his head to the side. “Why’d you really send Peter? You could’ve come clean at the airport, or even before.”

Steve had never felt so much adrenaline hit his bloodstream all at once before. He coughed lightly; tasting the mocha in the back of his throat as he attempted to remove it from his lungs. “You’d have never written back if I did.” 

Bucky nodded along to Steve’s words; his gaze occasionally flicking to the exit. Each time someone laughed or got a bit loud, Steve would see Bucky’s grip on the table strengthen. He was agitated.

_‘Great...he’s upset with me...I knew it.’_

“Maybe,” Bucky stated. “Maybe not. But that was my choice to make, Steve-”

“Look,” Steve interrupted. “I can just go. I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He stood up, feeling his heart attempt to linger in the chair. He could practically hear it shattering in his chest as he struggled to move away. Was Bucky just trying to give Steve a taste of his own medicine? Was this what it felt like to _really_ be lied to? Steve deserved it. There was no doubt in Steve’s mind that he deserved this punishment. He felt like his nerves were on fire. Why would a guy like Bucky want to be with a guy like Steve anyway? Steve was foolish for even entertaining the thought in the first place.

“Steve,” Bucky drawled. “Sit down, please.” His voice was as smooth as caramel. There was no animosity or bitterness. It was level; calm. He looked up at Steve with an expression that Steve astonishingly could only describe as hopeful. But why hopeful? He should be upset. He should be pissed for what Steve did to him. 

Steve sat back down with a reserved sigh.

“I brought you out today cause I wanted to see the _real_ you,” Bucky said as he grabbed Steve’s hand on the table. “I wanted to know the guy I wrote to and quite literally fought to protect was real. And you are. You never needed to hide from me.” 

Steve snorted. “C’mon, Bucky, would you really have talked to me if I was honest upfront with you?” 

“I’m sitting across from you in an overly-crowded Starbucks with tourists and children. Whadda you think?”

“I thought you liked kids,” Steve retorted. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Answer the question, Steve.” His voice was still gentle, almost as gentle as the heat that was cascading over Steve’s back from the fireplace. 

“I don’t know why you’re here, Buck,” Steve answered with a downtrodden expression. He looked down at Bucky’s hand that still held his own. Bucky’s hands were so much bigger than his. Everything about Bucky was everything that Steve wanted to be and never could. He both adored and envied Bucky. “I’m a liar and…” His voice quivered as he spoke. “And I look like _this_.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed together as he slowly licked at his lips. Steve closed his eyes. He didn’t want to read too far into that expression. He just wanted this nightmare to end. He’d take his lecture in stride and then Bucky would never have to see him again. “You really hate yourself, don’t you?” Bucky asked through a husky whisper.

Steve couldn’t dispel the lump in his throat to speak, so he just nodded dejectedly. He couldn’t bring his gaze back to Bucky’s face. He didn’t need to see that expressive aura or those almond eyes.

“Stevie,” Bucky breathed out. He grabbed Steve’s hand with his other hand now too. “Do you wanna know what I really thought when I first saw the picture you sent?” 

Steve just twitched his jaw briefly; still staring at the table.

“I thought, “Alright...this guy’s not really my type, but he’s funny and sweet, so I’ll give it a shot.” 

That’s when Steve looked up. “Not your type? Peter’s everyone’s type!” 

Bucky laughed softly, but his shoulders still found enough glee to shake lightly. “I like my men to be more refined. Anyone can get buff. It takes a really beautiful person to pull off small.”

“You mean skinny,” Steve laughed out. He couldn’t believe this was happening. It hadn’t been a lie. It wasn’t to get even. It wasn’t even out of pity. Bucky...was being honest? Bucky _liked_ the way Steve looked? 

Bucky nodded. “I mean delicately crafted. My favorite race of beings in _Lord of The Rings_ are the elves, Steve.” 

Steve chortled. “Oh come _on_! Orlando Bloom is _not_ skinny.” 

Bucky smiled back. “I always pictured Legolas tall, blonde and skinny. I was entirely disappointed when I heard he’d been cast for Legolas. I don’t really have a height preference, but I _definitely_ like men who look like you over guys who look like Peter.”

Steve looked back at the table once more, pressing his tongue to the back of his teeth. “So…” he ventured. “Are you angry that I lied?” 

Bucky rolled in his lips as he looked over at the fireplace. “I’m not...angry,” he described. “Maybe a bit unsettled you feel _that_ insecure about yourself, but not angry.”

Steve let out the breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. He felt stones being lifted from his shoulders as everything seemede to be cleared up. He offered a shaky, timid smile at Bucky. 

“But don’t think you’re off the hook, punk,” Bucky said as he pulled his hands back and pointed accusingly at Steve. “You owe me a lot of kisses and have to let me verbally assault you with a bunch of compliments since you didn’t let me give them to you at the airport.”

Steve laughed freely now, feeling his own shoulders shake in jubilee as Bucky flashed his dashing smile over the table. There were so many people in this crowded room and Bucky’s gaze only lit up when he was looking at Steve. Steve didn’t understand it. He’d probably never understand why a man like Bucky would want Steve, but he wasn’t going to deny how elated his heart felt. 

* * *

 

 **< Steve. Steve. Steeeeeeve. Steeeeeve. LIL MAN! TWIGGIE. KNEE-KNOBS! (Do you remember when that kid Tim used to call you that? Like, what kind of dopey nickname is that? STEEVE. STEVEN. ALLEN. ALLEN. (Remember that youtube video? You are now a groundhog...named Allen. OMG ANSWER ME YOU LITTLE SHIT!!!>** 

Steve stared down at his phone. Nat still hadn’t texted him, it was getting late and he really was starting to feel guilty for ignoring Peter all day. On the brightside, his texts were rather amusing? But, Steve knew how Peter felt. He’d been crazy about Natasha since high school. Back then, Peter was chunky. Natasha had always been as slender as a doe. She’d been way out of his league and he knew it. In all honesty, she probably still was out of his league. His weight had never been the issue. Peter was...Peter.

“That Peter?” Bucky asked as they walked up to Steve’s apartment complex. His hands were shoved into his peacoat. The chilly air had dusted a light red against his cheeks and the tip of his nose. It only served to bring out his blue eyes more. Steve wondered how it’d be when there was bright, white snow against those dark, black eyelashes. He’d never been one to enjoy the winter as it messed with his joints, but this winter he was certainly looking forward to. 

“Yeah,” Steve finally replied. “I told him I’d get ‘em a date with this friend of mine.” 

Bucky cocked a brow. “And?” 

“She hasn’t responded to me yet. She could be at work but- I don’t know. Maybe she just doesn’t wanna tell me she’s not into him?”

Bucky sighed through his nose. “Or maybe she’s doing a quick background check on him? I know that’s what I’m doing the next time a sexy guy starts writing me letters.” 

Steve playfully bumped his shoulder into Bucky’s chest. “Not funny!” he exclaimed through a smile.

“I think it’s hilarious…” Bucky retorted; sniggering to himself.

Steve opened the apartment complex’s door, holding it open for Bucky. “Awe, thank you, sir!” Bucky teased as he winked at Steve; entering the complex. Steve couldn’t hide the dopey smile; laced with admiration and awe as Bucky walked past him. 

“You think Maggie’s around?” Bucky asked as they walked down the hall to the elevators. No one resided on the first floor; it was simply just the laundry rooms.

“Probably,” Steve answered. “Wanna finally meet her?”

“Yeah!” Bucky exclaimed as he followed Steve into the elevator.

“So,” Steve began. “Do you, or do you not like kids? You were pretty antsy for a minute at Starbucks.”

Steve had never seen someone’s face drop so quickly. Bucky’s eyes clouded and he ran his teeth over his bottom lip. “There was just a lot of commotion in there.”

Steve’s gaze lingered on Bucky. Something...shifted in him; the light that Bucky was constantly radiating wasn’t so bright suddenly. “It’s okay if you don’t like kids,” Steve pressed.

“I like kids, Steve!” Bucky snapped. “I don’t...just don’t worry about it.” The elevator chimed open, allowing Bucky to briskly walk off and put some distance between himself and Steve. 

Steve slowly got off the elevator; his heart oozing down into his stomach as it tried to slip away from Steve. Bucky had reacted so...negatively. It was like a switch was flicked and he was suddenly a different person. His movements were suddenly rigid, he wouldn’t stop clenching his jaw and even his gaze seemed to be flicking wildly around the long hallway. “Bucky…” Steve whispered. “We don’t have to do this.” 

Bucky closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, balling his fists and relaxing them, over and over, and suddenly he was back to being Bucky. A brilliant smile rose to his red lips as he waved a dismissive hand. “I wanna meet Maggie! I’m fine, Steve. Just had a moment.” 

Steve wanted to press it. He wanted to bring Bucky into his apartment and sit him down. Their relationship had started in a lie. Steve didn’t want it to continue that way. But Steve didn’t have the charisma Bucky had to get the man to expose his every secret and Steve didn’t think that’d be fair even if he were able to do that. Something about being in a crowded Starbucks had made Bucky uncomfortable. Perhaps he wasn’t really that big of a people person? Steve understood crowd anxiety; suffering it himself. He walked in front of Bucky, knocking on a door and stepping back. 

“Mom’s making spaghetti for dinner. Figure we should invite Maggie too,” Steve said; ending the previous conversation. 

Bucky nodded; a soft smile tugging at his lips.   

A child with long, crimpy, unkempt hair opened the door. She looked tired, but the second her gaze found Bucky, she broke out into an ear-to-ear smile and ran into his legs for a hug. “Bucky!” she cried out in laughter.

“Hey Little Dali!” Bucky laughed out as he bent down to give her a real hug. Steve watched as Mrs. B, Maggie’s mom hovered in the doorway with a smile. 

“Mrs. B,” Steve greeted.

“Looks like someone’s soldier’s come home,” the large woman teased. She winked at Steve. Unlike most of the neighbors, Steve was more than fine with Mrs. B knowing his sexuality. They’d even talked about it a few times before Steve formally came out to his mother. 

“Mrs. Rogers is makin’ spaghetti,” Bucky said through a large smile. Steve was sure there was a direct pathway from those blue hues and into the brightest spot in the universe, because no one’s face had ever looked so ethereal...till he met Bucky. “Wanna join me?” 

Maggie nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Can I- Can I draw you?!” 

Bucky chortled as he offered a small nod. “Course you can! You’ll make me all pretty, yeah? I’m pretty ugly right now.”

Steve didn’t hide the scoff that slipped from his lips. Even Mrs. B rolled her eyes. 

Bucky looked up, offering a wink to Steve as he looked back down at Maggie. She was curling her fingers into his peacoat’s collar as if she stopped touching him, he’d float away. Bucky stood up, picking up Maggie in his arms and motioning with his head for Steve to lead back to his apartment. 

“We’ll be sure to feed her a ton of sugar and soda!” Bucky called back over his shoulder. 

“You may be pretty, Sergeant Barnes,” Mrs. B warned. “But you do that and I’ll still find it in me to smack your face.” Empty, playful threats. Steve chuckled softly to himself.

They walked into Steve’s apartment. It was the first time Bucky had ever seen it. Granted, nothing was special about it. The couch was plaid and worn. The kitchen was dated and too small. But it was home. “Hey Mom,” Steve greeted as he walked in the door. “This is-” 

“Bucky!” Sarah shouted. She’d been in the kitchen stirring the pasta. Bucky put Maggie on the floor, but she didn’t let go of his hand. He didn’t let go of hers.

Sarah came out and gave him a hug. “Oh I’m so glad you’re home and safe! We were worried sick about you!” 

“It feels good to be back, ma’am,” Bucky responded as he gave her as tight a hug as he could with Maggie’s little fingers still curled around his hand. 

“Oh you stop that,” Sarah warned. “Call me Sarah.” 

Bucky laughed. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Steve had never felt so proud. He’d never had a _good_ boyfriend before. Sure, he’d had a few. He’d never gotten to bring them home though. Most of them were either out for sex (which Steve was happy to inform he still was a virgin as he didn’t put out for just anyone; though that didn’t mean he wasn’t an expert at hand jobs or fellatio...) or they liked the idea of having someone who they could routinely cheat on. That was Steve’s favorite… 

But Steve was _proud_ of Bucky. He was charming, polite, respectful, kind… Steve could write a novel about the many, many reasons he loved Bucky. And he did love Bucky...he just didn’t know if it was appropriate to say yet. They’d met over letters. A year of frantic, desperate correspondence where they poured their souls out to each other. Steve had fallen in love. Had Bucky? Was Bucky? Steve felt his pulse beating frantically in his wrist. He cleared his throat; entering the galley kitchen so he could grab plates and set the table while Sarah chatted with Bucky. 

He walked back out into the living room/dining room area; listening to the conversation. 

“−I’ve got a good setup. Living with my buddy, Brock for a bit till I can find a place. GI Bill’s not perfect but it’s covering a fair bit. I’m enrolled at NYU and start in January. Me n’ Stevie’ll be study buddies.” He looked up, offering that toothy grin with the slightest cock of his head. He only looked _more_ like a flawless little shit.  Bucky seemed to always be smiles, except for that brief moment on the elevator… Steve didn’t think he’d be able to let that go no matter how much he wanted to. 

“Will you be commuting from here then? Finding a place nearby?” Sarah asked. 

Bucky leaned over Maggie’s shoulder, watching her little fingers draw a rather good portrait of Bucky’s face. Five years old and she was already drawing above most kids her age. “Yup. Dorms are too expensive and I’m a lot older than most undergrads.” 

“You don’t look it. You and Steve both have that luxury,” Sarah said.

“I look like I’m twelve, mom,” Steve stated with a smirk. “I wouldn’t call that a luxury.” 

Bucky laughed heartily. “They still carding you, baby?” he teased. 

Steve’s eyes narrowed in playful annoyance. “Watch it, old man.” 

Sarah laughed lightly. Steve had always loved his mother’s laugh. It sounded like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. “I’ll go get dinner on the table.” 

“Wanna take a break and eat, Mags?” Bucky asked. 

Maggie finished a portion of Bucky’s hair and set her crayon down. “Yup, yup, yup!” She climbed onto Bucky’s back.

“Oh what, I’m your pack mule now?” he smirked.

Steve leaned against the couch as he watched Bucky spin around with Maggie, pulling shrieking laughter from her as he did so. Bucky obviously liked kids. Why did the question make him so angry before? What was Steve missing? He’d been corresponding with a five-year-old almost as long as he’d been writing to Steve. 

“You know,” Bucky interrupted into Steve’s thoughts. “You crease your brow like that too long and it’ll get stuck that way.” 

Steve’s face melted into a resigned smile as he walked over to the dining table. Steve’s mom had filled everyone’s plates with heaping piles of pasta, red sauce and Italian sausages. There was a garden salad on the table but Steve was pretty sure Bucky wouldn’t be interested. He seemed like a steak and potatoes kind of guy. 

However, the second he finished the thought, his mouth dropped in surprise as he watched Bucky shovel a large portion of the salad into a bowl and then he persisted to take a bite without any dressing.

“Are you a vegetarian?” Sarah asked with wide, terrified eyes. Steve knew Sarah hated insulting people’s eating choices.

“Oh no!” Bucky explained. “I just really like salad.”

“Without dressing? Dressing’s the best part!” Steve chimed. 

“I hate salad,” Maggie mumbled from her seat. Bucky playfully nudged into her in response. 

“It’s good for you!” Bucky explained. “I’m a texture guy. Anything kind of gooey and I tend to avoid it. Dressing is gooey.” 

Sarah laughed. “You’re a handful, Sergeant.” 

“The best kind,” Bucky charismatically shot back; offering a wink over at Steve. Steve watched as Bucky avoided the pasta on his plate. He ate the sausages...but not the pasta. In the letters, they’d never really talked about eating habits. Sure, they’d mention when they went out to a fancy place or Bucky raved on and on about hummus in one letter, but they never really talked about what they enjoyed to eat. So Bucky was a texture person… Okay. Steve still would classify him as a steak and potatoes kind of guy...maybe with a side salad sans dressing… 

 **< Hey, sorry. I’ve been pretty busy today. Sure, I’ll go on a date with him.>** Steve read the text Natasha had finally sent him. It felt too easy. Steve was prepared to grovel and be a complete obnoxious mess to Nat, but she’d agreed. What was the catch here? _Was_ there a catch?

 **< Really?>** Steve texted back. 

“Steve,” Sarah warned softly. “That’s not polite, sweetie.” 

“Oh it’s cool!” Bucky jumped in. “He’s been tryin’ to set up Peter with someone.”

“Natasha, Mom,” Steve detailed. “And she’s agreed, so...that’s exciting.” 

“Have you met all of Steve’s friends?” Sarah asked.

Bucky looked over to Steve for affirmation. 

Steve shook his head from side to side. “Just Peter so far. He just got back yesterday, Mom.” 

Sarah’s brow flicked lightly. “Well, I didn’t know! You could have had a big group pick him up or something! Make it more memorable.” 

“Oh, believe me,” Bucky chortled. “It was memorable.” He slipped his foot up next to Steve’s, caressing against Steve’s ankle. 

Steve shot him a deadpanned expression, but he also flicked his foot around to brush it against Bucky’s. Sarah looked between the two, but Steve made no apologies for how drunk his gaze was with Bucky’s face. Maggie was too young to understand and Steve was sure Sarah wouldn’t risk saying anything that could potentially push Bucky away. Not that Bucky could be easily pushed away...or maybe he could. Steve was still trying to adjust to the fact that Bucky _liked_ his body. He understood mental attraction. Bucky was clearly attracted to Steve’s mind, but...his body? How? What man on earth would want flesh and bone when they could have so much more?

“Can I have ice cream, Mrs. Rogers?” Maggie asked slowly in her angelic, polite voice. 

“You didn’t finish your dinner!” Sarah exclaimed. “One more bite, then I’ll get you some ice cream.” Sarah stood from the table, going to the kitchen to get the ice cream. 

“You boys want any?” she called. 

“Yes please!” Steve replied. 

“Uh, no thank you!” Bucky responded. 

Steve cocked a single brow at Bucky. “Don’t tell me it’s too gooey too?” 

Bucky shrugged innocently. “Slimey.”

“What do you even eat?” Steve inquired in astonishment. “Bread and lettuce?”

“I don’t like bread. Too spongey. I’ll only eat very specific kinds.” 

Steve sat back in his chair; groaning in disbelief. “How do you live?!” 

Bucky snorted. “One day at a time, I guess?” He offered a lackadaisical shrug for emphasis.   

While everyone was eating their ice cream, Bucky hopped up and started grabbing plates.

“Oh you don’t have to do that, dear,” Sarah said as she popped her spoon out of her mouth. “I can get it.”

“Nah!” Bucky drawled. “You relax. I’ll clean up. I’ll grab Steve if I can’t figure out your dishwasher.”

“We don’t have a dishwasher,” Steve stated in a singsong voice. He cocked his brow challengingly at Bucky; wondering if Bucky would back out or if he’d still do the dishes.

Bucky set the plates down on the table. He rolled his sleeves up and picked them back up again. “Well I’ll hand wash. Steve can dry them." 

“I’m still eating!” Steve protested playfully. 

“But I’m lonely in here!” 

Sarah giggled. “He’s wonderful for you, sweetie.” 

Steve looked on over at the small archway that led to the kitchen. He turned back to his mother’s approving smile and stood up; taking his bowl with him. He’d eat it while standing. Steve walked into the kitchen, getting splashed lightly by Bucky as he washed at the dishes. “Hey! Watch it wise guy!” Steve protested. 

“Suck it up, punk!” Bucky laughed. He put a cleaned dish atop a dish towel. “Dry ‘em.”

“Sir yes, _sir_ ,” Steve teased. He heard Bucky’s breath hitch for a moment. Bucky bit at his lip, looking over at Steve as if he wanted to devour him rather than crack another joke. 

“Mmm, I like that,” he purred.

Steve’s face went flush as he snapped his gaze to the dish he was drying. A whole year of letters and Steve was still learning so much about Bucky. _Everything_ Bucky did, he did with his entire body. For a man so expressive, Steve was astonished at how secretive Bucky could be, or perhaps Bucky wasn’t being secretive. Maybe he just wasn’t ready to explain _why_ he got upset in the elevator. Steve could respect that. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t stop thinking about it. 

Steve’s phone vibrated in his pants, bringing him out of his thoughts. He flipped it out to read the text. 

 **< You’re the worst best friend on the planet. I’ve got pictures of you from grade school. I’M NOT AFRAID TO USE THEM!>** 

Steve laughed as he clicked reply. **< Chill! She said she’d go on a date with you! See, I’m a great best friend.>**

Not even seconds later and Steve’s phone was vibrating again. 

**< SWEET BABY JESUS WITH FAT, CHERUB-RED CHEEKS! YOU’RE SHITTING ME?! YOU SERIOUS? OHHHMYYGOOOOOOOOOD! I swear if you’re lying I will END you!>**

**< Not lying. I’ll give you her number when Bucky goes home.>**

**< Steeeeeeveeeeeeee! Thanks :)>** 

 **< Stop texting me! Bucky’s still here!>** 

 **< OoooooOOoooOoooooo, whatcha doinnnn? Are you ...wait...you’re not doing THAT already? Are you? I mean, I guess you’ve known each other for a year already but ho’shit, you whore ;)>** 

 **< PETER! We’re just washing dishes!>** 

**< So that’s what kids are calling it these days?>**

Steve didn’t respond. He chuckled to himself, looking over to Bucky who had finished washing the dishes and was now drying them off. “Hey, I’ll do that!" 

“That Peter?” Bucky asked as he set a dish down and picked up another. 

“Yeah. Told him about Nat.” 

“I’d like to meet more of your friends,” Bucky stated. “I mean, if you’re cool with that? I don’t have to.” 

“N-no!” Steve blurted. “No, I’d really love it if you met them. Maybe I’ll have them all over and we can have a welcome home party for you? You can invite Brock? And any other friends you’ve got?” 

Bucky laughed, but his tone was void of humor. “Most of my friends are dead or overseas, Steve.” 

He’d said it so casually that Steve wasn’t really sure he was hearing him correctly. Steve felt his tongue thickening in his mouth as he racked his brain for something to say. What did you say to that? How did you keep a conversation moving? “I...I’m sorry.” Brilliant, Steve. 

Bucky shrugged. “I’m sorry. That was morbid. I’m just…” Bucky sighed heavily as he put the plates up in the cabinet. He braced himself against the sink. “I guess I’m just still trying to come to terms with it, myself. I mean, not all my friends are dead. Just most of ‘em. I’ll invite Brock. I’m sure he’d love to meet you.” 

Steve didn’t know what to do. Bucky’s entire aura had quite literally sucked all the warmth out of the room. Steve shifted on his feet, swaying back and forth nervously. He came up behind Bucky and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s torso. He felt Bucky’s back muscles relax as he grabbed at Steve’s hands to lace his fingers into Steve’s. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Steve mumbled.

Bucky spun around in Steve’s arms, wrapping his arms around Steve’s body. “You didn’t upset me,” he whispered. He pressed his lips against Steve’s, letting their lips just freeze there as they locked into each other. Steve felt his heartbeat soar. 

Bucky pulled back; but his eyes were still etched with something Steve could only figure as remorse. Bucky had gotten injured. People had died in that ambush, obviously people that Bucky knew and cared about. With how _alive_ and charming Bucky was, Steve had forgotten what Hell he’d seen. Bucky had seen war. He’d killed people. He’d seen brothers and sisters fall. There was a whole other side of Bucky that Steve would never see. Part of him didn’t _want_ to. But he needed to understand that part. 

“Are you two kissing?!” Maggie called from the doorway; her hands on her hips. Steve instantly pulled back, feeling ashamed that he’d been caught. Maggie may not have thought it, but Steve couldn’t ignore the guilt he felt about the kiss. He was so under Bucky’s league that it wasn’t even funny. 

Bucky shrugged as if hadn’t meant anything. “Yeah we were kissing!” 

“You love each other?” she asked; cocking her head to the side. 

Steve brought his fingers up over his mouth, sliding his thumbnail back and forth against his lips; looking to Bucky to handle the situation. 

Bucky caught on because he walked over to Maggie and picked her up; holding her above his head as he spun her around. Any sign of sadness inside Bucky had been vacuumed out of his system and he was back to being the most radiant human Steve had ever met. “Wanna finish drawing me?” 

“Yeah!” she giggled out. 

Steve hadn’t meant to sit on the couch, curled in on himself, and staring at Bucky; but he did. Bucky didn’t say “yes, he loved Steve.” Granted, Maggie was a child and maybe Bucky didn’t think he needed to explain to her that he was in love. Or maybe he wasn’t in love at all. Steve was. But Steve didn’t say it either. So maybe Bucky was in love? _‘Yeah right.’_

Steve felt his stomach tie itself in knots. Why was Bucky wasting his time with Steve? Was his personality _really_ that great? Steve didn’t think so. He wasn’t charming. He wasn’t even really all that funny. Bucky was everything; handsome, quick-witted and entertaining. There was nothing that really defined Steve to make him special. So what made Bucky want to stick around? It was only the second day. Maybe Steve just had to give it time and Bucky would eventually get tired of Steve. A clawed, cold hand pressed against Steve’s sternum and broke into his heart. _‘Yeah, give it time. He’ll leave you eventually...’_

After Maggie finished her drawing, Bucky suggested it was time she headed to bed. He walked her over to her apartment, leaving Steve alone as Sarah had retired to her room for the night. Steve was still sitting on the couch; chewing a fingernail. He’d resigned himself to believe that Bucky was only around because he had no one else. The second he saw someone better than Steve (which wasn’t hard in Steve’s opinion) he’d be gone. Still...the small things Bucky had said about his hands, about liking guys _Steve’s_ size. Steve couldn’t just ignore those things. But he didn’t want to get his hopes up either. Did Bucky love him? 

Bucky walked back into the apartment, distracting Steve from his lamenting. He dropped down onto the couch. “Alone at last,” he chuckled darkly. He kissed Steve’s shoulder several times. 

“Bucky…” Steve chided hesitantly. 

Bucky leaned back. His gaze bore into Steve’s eyes. “Your mom’s in the other room, I know. Still...I just wanted to feel your shoulders.”

“Why?” Steve countered. 

Bucky sighed out an awkward laugh. “Really? Did we not cover this earlier? I like skinny boys.”

Steve coiled in on himself; tucking his bottom lip under his teeth. “...Why?” 

Bucky pulled himself up onto the couch more; crossing his legs under himself and facing Steve. “Why do you like me?”

Steve noticed how Bucky said “like” and not “love.” But Steve couldn't hold that against Bucky. Steve had never said it yet. So for Steve to be upset about it was childish. But he still couldn’t fight that hollow feeling deep in his gut. He just felt like Bucky was slipping through his fingers at every passing moment. 

“Steve?” Bucky asked. “You okay, baby?” 

Steve shivered at the affectionate name. He nodded tightly. 

“Why do you like me, Steve?” Bucky inquired again. He started to ghost his fingers up and down Steve’s arm. The nerves in Steve’s arm radiated warmly at the touch. 

“I like you…” Steve started as he stared at the other end of the couch. “I like you because you’re...beautiful? You’re eyes are pretty. Your mouth’s pretty. Your _body_.” Steve shrugged. “I dunno. I just like everything about you.”

Bucky chuckled softly; licking his lips absentmindedly. “You don’t think I feel the same about your body?” 

Steve shrugged. He answered with a broken tone, “No one likes a weak man.” 

“Who said you were weak?” Bucky retorted. “Steve, you walk and I _literally_ have to remind myself to keep breathing. You speak and I get _chills_ in my spine. Attraction is attraction. If you don’t think skinny guys are attractive, fine, but I do. I really, _really_ do.” 

Steve wanted to cry, or hide. He wasn’t exactly sure which feeling was more overpowering. Instead, he dropped his head into Bucky’s chest. He felt those beautifully crafted arms slip around him. Bucky placed soft kisses against the back of Steve’s head. “You’re beautiful to me, Steve. And if I have to sit here every day and tell you that, I will.” 

Steve definitely felt like crying; happy tears.

* * *

 

They saw each other every day for a solid week. Bucky would often show up at Steve’s apartment entirely unannounced. If Steve wasn’t there, Bucky would sit on the couch and flip through channels till Steve would get home. He’d even help Sarah around with chores; mopping, dusting, getting the mail. He enjoyed the domestic life. Chores weren’t so daunting when he’d remember it could be worse...he could be out in the desert with a ninety pound bag on his shoulder sweating to death as he looked through binoculars for any sign of movement. Bucky liked spending time with Sarah. She’d tell the embarrassing stories Steve never wanted told. Like when Steve was five, he was so small he could fit into a picnic cooler, so to get away from fireworks at a Memorial Day celebration, he snuck into the cooler and got himself stuck. Had to scream and shake violently for someone to realize where he’d gone. Bucky could recognize how _horrifying_ that must have been, but...it was still kind of funny.

When Steve wasn’t home, Bucky had time to lie on his bed; sprawled out with the tip of his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he concentrated on things to write to Steve. He’d started leaving post-it notes everywhere he could think of for Steve. He hadn’t been kidding when he told Steve he’d spend every day telling the man how beautiful he was.

And he was _beautiful_. When they’d taken a light walk down to the corner store, the sunset had glistened off Steve’s head like he was made of gold. Steve had to stop and grab Bucky’s hands and ask him what was wrong...because Bucky had _literally_ stopped functioning. He’d stood there, dumb and awestruck. He’d been completely convinced Steve was the closest thing to an angel Bucky would ever see. 

Bucky rolled over on Steve’s bed, biting at the tip of his pen as he thought about what to write next. He’d left a few simple compliments on his mirror, his dresser; the usual spots. Bucky wanted to get a bit more creative than that. 

Laughing at himself, Bucky pulled the note off the others and slapped it atop Steve’s bedpost. It was stupid and entirely unoriginal, but he knew Steve’d get a kick out of it. Steve liked stupid humor, or at least he laughed at Bucky’s jokes...and Bucky would be the first to announce his jokes weren’t the most intelligently formed. 

Someone opened the door to the apartment. Bucky could hear Sarah greeting who Bucky assumed was Steve. Heaving himself off the bed, Bucky made his way back into the living room. He walked up to Steve, pressing a kiss to Steve’s face in greeting. Steve scoffed and pushed Bucky away. Bucky didn’t press further. He knew what that meant. Steve wasn’t comfortable with the amount of affection that Bucky wanted to give. It wasn’t that Steve didn’t want it...he just couldn’t _accept_ it. His mind was entirely made up that Bucky was too good for him and Bucky had to do what he could to patiently chip away that idea. Sure, the several times Bucky had wanted to make out on the couch while they watched a movie had gone horribly wrong when Steve started to coil in or verbally abuse himself, but Bucky was willing to work through it. It’d only been a week since Bucky had been home. There’d be plenty of time for make out sessions when Steve was _finally_ ready to accept them.

“Do you even live with Brock anymore?” Steve teased as he playfully elbowed Bucky’s abdomen.

“I sleep there, yeah. Your ma and I are pretty good friends though,” Bucky said as he went over to the trashcan to pull the full trash bag out and tie it up.

“It’s nice having someone who actually _likes_ to help around the house,” Sarah chided. 

“I’m in studio classes all day!” Steve whined.

Sarah rolled her eyes. “And I pull twelve hour shifts!”

“Before this becomes one of those awkward situations where I’m pitted between my boyfriend and his mom, I think Imma take this outside,” Bucky said as he slid casually over to the door. 

“I’ll come with you!” Steve said. “Love you, Mom!” 

Bucky let out a breathy chuckle as Steve sidled up to him. “Have a good day in class?” Bucky asked. 

Steve lifted up his fingers, showing them to Bucky. They were blackened and partly cracked. Bucky resisted the urge to grab them and run his fingers over them. “Charcoal stains are my favorite,” Steve said sarcastically. “Kinda stings.” 

They got on the elevator. “You should’a washed your hands, dummy!” Bucky chastised lightly.

“I knew there’d be this jobless hobo hanging out with my mom and I couldn’t let her endure him any longer than she had to!” Steve retorted with a shit-eating grin. 

The elevator dinged and they walked off toward the doors to the dumpsters in the alley. “Ha. Ha. I’m not homeless.”

“Do you pay rent?” Steve asked. 

Bucky blinked. “No?” 

“Do you have your name on a lease?” 

Bucky’s eyes narrowed but he cracked a small side-grin. “No…” 

“Exactly. Jobless hobo.” 

“I’m gonna dump this garbage on you, you little shit!” Bucky threatened through a wide grin. 

“No you wouldn’t!” Steve shouted as he ran for the dumpster. 

“You wanna bet!” Bucky ran after him; pulling him into a headlock with his free arm. 

“No! You wouldn’t dare!” Steve laughed out elatedly. He shoved his charcoal-stained fingers into Bucky’s face, smearing some charcoal against him.

“You punk!” Bucky shouted. He let Steve slide out from his grip. Steve ran around the dumpster; poking his head out as he smiled fully. Bucky felt his breath catch in his throat. That smile; the way those pearly teeth glistened casually in the sunlight, those dimples… Bucky wanted to kiss them softly; for they only deserved the gentlest of touches. 

“You okay, Buck?” Steve asked, his smile faltering into one of reservation and concern.

“You’re just really pretty when you smile,” Bucky answered honestly. 

Steve’s face reddened as he bit the corner of his lip. “Th-thanks…” he said softly; casting his eyes to the ground. “I’ve got kinda a crooked smile though…” 

Bucky threw the garbage into the dumpster. Every compliment he’d give, Steve countered with a flaw. Bucky sighed through his nose in resignation. “C’mon, let’s go inside and wash up.” 

He turned around to walk back inside when he heard a loud _bang_. Bucky’s whole body went rigid as his heart practically slammed into the back of his tongue. _‘Gunshots!’_ Sweat clung to his body, forcing a violent shiver to zing up his spine. He whirled back to Steve, grabbing him and forcing the man into his chest as he yelled, “Get down!” 

“B-Bucky! I just closed the dumpster lid!” Steve protested from under Bucky. 

Bucky looked around wildly; his gaze fixing on the dumpster. Its lid was indeed down. His fingers trembled as he let go of Steve; crossing his arms over himself as his heart still beat erratically in his chest. He focused on his breathing; listening to the ragged, uneven rushes of oxygen into his lungs as he stared at Steve’s horror-stricken face. He didn’t want to see _that_ expression on Steve’s face. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard, taking one final, big breath. It was the dumpster lid. The dumpster lid. 

He forced a smile to his face, looking back up at Steve as he grabbed the man’s wrist and pulled him into him. “I was just kidding,” Bucky lied. “C’mon.” 

Steve didn’t protest. He didn’t question it. Bucky couldn’t have been more grateful. There were things that neither of them pushed about. Bucky wasn’t ready to explain he thought the sound of a dumpster’s lid was a gunshot. Steve wasn’t ready to explain why he really hated himself. 

Some things just seemed better left unsaid. 

* * *

 

“Where’re we going?” Bucky asked for the fifth time. “Seriously, Stevie.”

Steve laughed, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll like it.” 

Bucky cracked an amused grin; slipping his fingers around Steve’s. “Will I like it as much as I like kissing your fingers?” 

Despite the night’s darkness, Bucky swore he could see gentle hues of red caress against those angular cheeks. “Bucky…” Steve breathed out.

Bucky recoiled, nodding to himself as he looked around the neighborhood. It wasn’t terribly far from theirs, but it’d still be a long, long walk tonight when it got really cold. He looked over to Steve’s jacket. It was simple. Cotton. Bucky needed to buy Steve a bigger jacket. Maybe he could do that when Steve was back at school on Monday. They’d gone out for the past couple of nights and Steve was always complaining about being too cold and sniffling pathetically. No matter how many times Bucky had offered his peacoat, Steve never accepted it. Bucky had even shrugged out of it and Steve was already clamoring over him and shoving it back up against his shoulders. Bucky’s face fell as they continued to walk silently. He hated how much Steve felt he wasn’t _worthy_. As if someone had to be worthy to love another? 

And Bucky loved Steve. Bucky was over the moon, borderline obsessed, all-I-ever-think-about in love with Steve. He just hadn’t worked up the courage to say it yet. Quite frankly, he was afraid he’d start crying and the last thing he wanted was to scare Steve off. He’d destroy himself if Steve ever left him. 

“Can I get a clue?” Bucky piped up. “Tiny one?” 

Steve laughed softly. “We’ve talked about it before. Couple weeks back.” 

Bucky pulled his brows together; thinking hard on what they’d talked about. They’d talked about a lot of things. “Are we going to Disney World?” 

Steve barked out a laugh. “No.” 

“Dancing?” 

“No.” 

Bucky pursed his lips. “Skinny dipping?” 

“We never talked about that!” Steve defended. 

Bucky nuzzled up against Steve. “Yeah but I wouldn't mind if we did.” 

“It’s freezing out, Bucky,” Steve responded. “And I’m not ready for that.” 

Bucky pulled back; still holding Steve’s hand. He licked at his lips. Steve had been enjoying Bucky’s post-it notes. He’d even started collecting them into a binder (Bucky saw it under his bed when Sarah asked him to get Steve’s laundry). But for all the compliments Bucky could give, Steve always needed more. Bucky would _give_ more. He’d tell Steve he was beautiful until his very lungs gave out. But it wasn’t up to Bucky to decide how Steve felt about himself. It was up to Steve. 

“So...where are we going?” Bucky asked again. 

“You’re a child,” Steve laughed. “And we’re here.” 

Bucky followed Steve up a flight of stairs to an apartment complex. It was nicer than Steve’s, but that wasn’t meant to put Steve down by any means; Bucky just could tell this person had more money. He assumed it was a person they were going to see. “Is this Peter’s place?” Bucky asked. 

“You’ll see!” Steve exclaimed happily. “Jesus, I can’t take you anywhere.” 

They were rounding a small landing when Bucky gently pushed Steve up against a wall and placed several kisses against his cheeks; licking over his mouth playfully. “I’d cooperate more if I knew where I was goin’,” he purred. 

Steve breathlessly looked up into Bucky’s eyes. Bucky could see the utter _want_ glazed into those blue hues. Bucky smiled; proud of himself. 

“One more flight of stairs and you’ll know,” Steve whispered. He nudged his head the tiniest bit forward and that’s all Bucky needed to see before he closed his lips atop Steve’s. Bucky was never rough with Steve. He never wanted to be. Steve’s lips were freshly woven silk that had been laid out in the sun till they were warm and radiating with comfort. His cheeks were soft as cotton and any rough action could tear at them. Bucky didn’t want to _ever_ be rough with Steve. He traced his tongue against Steve’s lips, savoring that soft, smooth texture. 

“Mmm,” Bucky hummed. “Or we could just find a place to be alone?” 

Steve rolled against Bucky. From his frantic expression, Bucky was sure it’d been involuntary. Steve pushed Bucky back, shaking his head softly. “N-no. This is important to me.” 

Bucky nodded. He grabbed Steve’s hand, a silent plea for forgiveness for his behavior. Steve squeezed his hand gently and they were once more climbing the stairs silently. At least Steve’s apartment had an elevator… 

They arrived at their destination. Steve knocked in a certain pattern that Bucky could only identify as some kind of secret code. He eyed Steve suspiciously, a hint of amusement behind his pupils. 

Steve opened the door. It was dark...till it wasn’t. The flash of light brought that familiar sensation of his heart lurching into his throat. His fingers started trembling as sounds trumpeted all at once. 

 _The darkness was pierced in violent, unpredictable flashes as grenades and gunfire lit the world, painting its heavy blues and grays with bright shocks of white, yellow and red. Bucky could hear screaming. Desperate cries from desperate men as they shouted till their lungs collapsed in on them or bullets silenced them forever._  

 _Bucky pushed himself back against a tank, clutching his gun as his frantic gaze drank in the scenery of death and chaos. He felt hands on him, pulling him, caressing him but he couldn’t see anyone! He cried out, waving his gun through the air as he tried to deflect the feeling. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real._  

 _The earth shook as the thundering wave of bombs exploded around him. He could smell sulfur and ash. Blood. Someone shouted, “It’s caving in! They’re gonna get smothered!”_  

 _“My Commandos are in there!” Bucky shrieked before he was pushed forward. Something cold was against his face. He tried to swat at it but it wouldn’t stop!_  

 _“Stop it! Stop touching me! You’re not real! You’re not real!”_  

“Bucky! Bucky look at me! Bucky listen to me! You’re okay! Bucky you’re okay!” 

Steve? It was Steve! Why was Steve in a warzone? Why were… People. All staring. Concern etching so deeply into their eyes it’s as if they’d shatter from the strain. Bucky didn’t know these people. A shock of red hair. A blonde man. Peter...Peter. _‘Oh God...Oh God what...what’s happening?!’_  

Bucky was slumped against the wall. His knees were pressed into his chest as Steve was hovering over him at one side. His limbs trembled violently and he couldn’t mask the whimper that slipped from his lips. 

“You’re okay, baby,” Steve cooed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Bucky felt the cool shock of something against his face. His head snapped in the direction of a brunette woman as she held a washcloth. “We didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“I…” Bucky panted. “I hate surprises, Steve.” He hated the look that crossed into Steve’s features. The look of self-doubt and hatred. But Bucky hated surprises. He hated loud noises. He hated feeling crowded or cornered and he _hated_ when he couldn’t sit in the direction of the exits in a room. 

“M’sorry,” Steve mumbled dejectedly. “I just wanted to give you a welcome home party… meet my friends…” 

Bucky hated hearing how broken Steve sounded. He brushed the back of his hand against Steve’s face, trying to muster up a smile but he was sure it looked more like a grimace. “I should’a told you, Stevie.” 

“It’s my fault,” the brunette woman said. She was English. “I wanted to throw you a surprise party. We’ve all heard so much about you. We just wanted to celebrate the man who's made Steve so happy.” 

Bucky nodded; swallowing thickly. “Welp, that was one hell of a sprurpse,” he sarcastically stated. 

Several, uncertain giggles echoed into the room. 

Peter helped Bucky to his feet. Bucky’s knees trembled slightly as he steadied himself out. “Thanks,” he said. 

“You good?” Peter inquired. Bucky didn’t like how Peter was looking at him. It wasn’t just concern. It was _understanding_. What did Peter know about getting thrown into panic attacks when people lurched out from dark places? Bucky also hated haunted houses… for that matter. 

“I’m good,” Bucky replied. He looked over to Steve. He’d been whispering quietly to the brunette Englishwoman. 

Bucky needed to stop this. These were Steve’s friends. He couldn’t look like a letdown. So he closed his eyes. He took in a deep, deep breath. He put on his most brilliant smile and sauntered over to Steve. “Aren’t you gonna introduce me to everyone?” he asked as he caressed his fingers softly through Steve’s hair. 

Steve responded with an uncertain smile. His gaze flicked over to the woman and then back at Bucky. “Bucky,” he said. “This is my other best friend, Peggy.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Bucky said as he held out his hand. It was still shaking. “S-sorry for startling you.” 

Peggy flashed a pearly-white smile, offering her hand out for Bucky. “Pleasure is all mine. And it’s alright. Not everyone likes surprises. I should have been more thoughtful.” 

“And this is Natasha,” Steve said as a red-headed woman slunk up to Bucky. She was _gorgeous_. Bucky now understood Peter’s obvious obsession over her. Bucky shook her hand. She offered a cat’s grin. 

“Steve’s told us all about you.” 

“Only good things, right?” Bucky responded charmingly; his smirk never leaving his face. 

“Only good things,” Natasha affirmed; her face morphed into a seductive grin. 

“Clint! Tony! Stop eating all the damn food!” Steve shouted. “The blonde one’s Clint and the other’s Tony. They’re assholes.” 

Bucky laughed. “Oh really?” 

“Steve’s just pissed I can throw a bowl better than him,” Clint responded as he shoveled another tortilla chip, heaping with bean dip into his mouth. 

“Throw a bowl?” Bucky asked in confusion.

“Pottery, my friend,” Tony said as he strut over to Bucky and offered out his hand. “He means pottery. They’re both art majors. Wasted potential if you ask me.”

“Steve’s a great artist,” Bucky defended automatically as he shook Tony’s hand. 

“Yeah, but he’s also good at math!” 

“Tony’s an engineer,” Peter detailed. “He thinks everyone should be an engineer.” 

“It’s a great industry!” Tony exclaimed. “Jobs are available, there’s a wide range of career paths. Chemical. Industrial. Architectural. Mechanical.”

“I’ll stick to throwing my pots,” Clint said as he again shoved more food into his mouth. “I wanna open my own business for my pottery.” 

“Hey, that’s great!” Bucky stated enthusiastically. “I’m gonna be starting back in January for business. I could help you out.” 

“Thanks, man!” Clint offered him a thumb’s up. He turned to Peter, wrapping an arm around him. “So...you ask Nat out yet?” 

Tony walked to the other side of Peter. “Or did you... _clam_ up?” 

They both erupted into laughter. 

“I told you. Assholes,” Steve chimed. 

Bucky cocked a confused brow, his gaze darting from each man. Peter didn’t look amused. “I’m a clammer. I accidently told you I’m a sailor? After the NAVY, I joined up working as a clammer for one of the local fishermen. These two asswipes think it’s funny.” He punched both of them as they stood to his sides. 

They both started laughing again. “Oh don’t get sand in your britches!” Clint giggled out. “Oh wait...you probably already do!” 

Peter deadpanned at Clint. “That wasn’t even remotely funny,” he stated flatly. 

“Well,” Clint continued. “I’d give you my best lines but I’m too... _shellfish!_ ”Both Tony and Clint erupted into another fit of laughter. Even Natasha was smiling in amusement. 

“Before these two knock you off your feet with their delightful comedy, can I interest you in something to drink?” Peggy asked. “We’ve got beer, wine and some vodka.” 

“Beer’s great,” Bucky said with a nod. “Thank you.” 

Peggy flashed a soft smile before she turned for the kitchen.

“Wait,” Bucky said. “You never told me you were in the NAVY, Peter.” 

“Oh, yeah I-” 

“Oh no,” Tony said with a look of mock horror on his face. “The vets are gonna start regaling us with the glory days!” He put several small finger foods on his plate and headed for the couch. 

“Abandon ship!” Clint shouted. “Oh my God! I didn’t even mean to do it that time!” He grabbed his beer, following Tony over to the couch. 

“Oh my God,” Bucky stated as his face rounded in wonder. “How the hell are you friends with them?” He looked down at Steve, offering a teasing smile. 

Steve shrugged. “They’re good people...when they’re not being assholes.” 

Bucky hummed in response. He started to move to the food on the table when Peggy tapped his shoulder and handed him a Yuengling beer. “Thank you, ma’am.” 

“I am not old enough to be called that, you’ll refrain from that!” she teased as she wagged a finger in Bucky’s face. 

Bucky felt his cheeks heat up as he bit his bottom lip. “Sorry. It’s kinda automatic.” 

“Steve, do you care if I take a fellow vet onto the balcony?” Peter asked. 

Bucky’s gaze traveled over to Steve’s face. Steve shrugged. “Sure. Just don’t steal him from me.” 

Peter barked out a laugh. “Oh please. We’ve already and in the most painfully embarrassing way, found out I’m _not_ his type.” 

Bucky snorted as he nursed at his beer. Getting some alcohol in his system was nice. It’d help calm his frayed nerves from earlier. “You look too much like a puppy,” Bucky added; drilling the conversation home. 

“See?” Peter called out with a wide grin. “This puppy’s gonna talk to this smartass for a bit outside. We’ll be back.” 

Bucky leaned over giving Steve a quick peck on the lips. He noticed both Natasha and Peggy watching with proud smiles on their faces. It didn’t take a long, analytical viewing to understand these women were quite frankly, the lionesses in Steve’s life. If they didn’t approve of Bucky...he knew he’d be out faster than a hummingbird flapping its wings. 

“So,” Bucky stated as he rolled on his feet. “Alone at last.”

“You’re a little shit, Barnes,” Peter laughed out as he braced himself against the railing. “An absolute little shit.” 

“I think I’m a tiny bit taller than you?” Bucky said as he came to stand next to Peter. He stretched out his neck for emphasis but with Peter leaning over, he wouldn't get an accurate read. 

“How long’s it been?” Peter asked abruptly. His face was drained of amusement and play. His lips were pressed in a thin line and Bucky could barely tell what color his eyes were from how dark they’d gotten.   

“How long’s what been?” Bucky asked. 

“Since you were diagnosed,” Peter detailed.

Bucky watched a car slowly go by below on the street. “I’m not diagnosed with anything,” he responded carefully. He felt the base of his spine tingle like he wanted to run.

Peter nodded; sighing heavily. “I never had it as bad as you. NAVY kept me pretty far from the action. I mostly monitored China and told them to keep their subs the hell away from our waters, but I can tell when a guy’s got PTSD.” 

Bucky shifted his weight. “What? No I don’t.” He tried to laugh it off but it sounded strained. “It’s cold out. Wanna go back in?” 

Peter leaned back from the railing, swinging his arms, back and forth, a few times. “You have nightmares?” 

“Peter…” 

“Freak out in crowded places? Cold sweats? Do loud noises make you think about guns?” 

Bucky’s mouth dropped open silently as he stared at Peter with round, terrified eyes. His fingers were starting to tingle. 

“You were medically discharged. Some real shit must’ve happened to you and I’m not gonna ask for details. But I can see right through this,” Peter said as he gestured to Bucky’s person. “You smile _way_ too much for a guy who’s seen the shit you have. You laugh loud; put your whole body into it. You may even convince yourself everything’s okay. But that’s your mind _hiding_ the fact that it’s _not_ okay.” 

“I’m fine, Peter,” Bucky warned. He gulped; meeting Peter’s gaze head on as he twitched his lips. “I just hate surprises.” 

Peter snorted. “Yeah, and that’s probably true. I hate ‘em too. But here’s the thing, Bucky,” Peter said as he took a step closer to Bucky. He was the tiniest bit _taller_ than Bucky. “Steve’s my best friend. He’s small. You’re big. I’m not saying you’d ever do anything intentionally to hurt him, but if he accidently triggers something and you accidently lash out at him? What then, Buck? What am I gonna do when you’ve hurt my best friend? What’re you gonna do when you’ve hurt Steve?” 

Bucky’s face twitched as he tried to control his anger. He balled his hands up into fists over and over again. Peter wasn’t exactly threatening him...but he was threatening him. It was a fine line and Bucky couldn’t decide how he felt about it. He swallowed again, using the motion to let himself think just a second longer on how he’d react. Yes, he was having nightmares. Yes, he broke out into cold sweats. Yes, every time he heard a bang or a loud noise he _instantly_ thought about warfare. Peter was probably right. But Bucky wasn’t ready to admit that to himself. Cause then he’d have to admit to Steve that he wasn’t as perfect as Steve made him to be and Steve needed something perfect to show him _he_ was perfect too. 

Bucky shook his head silently. He still struggled to find words. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He was damn well aware of it. He’d seen the guys in Veterans’ Affairs all lined up with faces that spoke of stories most people would break from. He’d heard the stories. He knew what could happen if he triggered around Steve… 

“I’m...I’m not broken,” he finally uttered; his voice cracking as his throat tried to collapse in on itself. 

Peter’s whole body practically melted into a gentle, compassionate demeanor as he took another step forward, placing his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. “No. You’re far stronger than that, Bucky.” 

“I love him,” Bucky continued. It was out. Sure he didn’t say it to Steve but the words were uttered. Peter, Steve’s best friend… Peter knew now and Peter would know how to handle Steve when things didn’t go so perfectly with Bucky because...Bucky was damaged. He wasn’t perfect enough for Steve. “I love him so _fucking_ much.” 

Peter winced; his lips parting as he nodded softly. “Yeah. I ain’t the smartest, but I know you both are crazy for each other.” Peter backed off; leaning against the railing again. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You don’t ever even have to _tell_ Steve. I sure as hell won’t. But…” He seemed to linger on a thought as he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “You gotta get help. It’ll only get worse. No one has to know but you.” 

“And you,” Bucky blurted. “Fuck, I didn’t even know.” He ran a hand over his face; groaning into them. He took a long chug of his beer. 

Peter nodded. “Yeah well…” He shrugged. “I’ll probably forget about it. I’m shit for memory. Took me five years to remember Steve’s born on July 4th. July fucking 4th.” 

Bucky let out a strangled laugh. “Even I remembered first time he told me.”

 Peter’s face lit up in a gentle smile. “Yeah! See? I’ll forget. But it’s not anything you should be ashamed of. It happens. Lots’a people have it. Not all of them vets.” 

Bucky nodded as he ran his tongue along the inside of his lower lip. “Yeah, I know.” He kicked his feet softly into the railing rhythmically. “I just don’t want Steve thinking there’s somethin’ wrong with me.” 

“Steve would _never_ think there was something wrong with you, man,” Peter said as he clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Never.” 

Bucky didn’t respond. He nodded tightly; pursing his lips as he looked at the cars driving by below. 

“I’m goin’ back inside. And, dude, you’re not broken. You’re not even _remotely_ damaged. You’re stronger than the day you stepped into boot camp. Way stronger.” 

Bucky tried to smile but it came off as another twitch off the side of his mouth. He stood outside for a few minutes longer. Who else had seen it and just didn’t want to tell him? Did everyone in that room actually know? Were they just being nice to him for the sake of Steve? If people started dancing around Bucky like they were balancing on eggshells… He’d go crazy. He hated special treatment. He hated it when he wore his military uniform and people smiled too much at him or let him cut in line and he hated it when people thought he was weak. _‘Steve thinks he’s weak...’_  

But Steve wasn’t weak. There was so much fight in that small, flawless body. He’d throw himself into his artwork; Bucky had now even gotten the privilege of _seeing_ it. He’d throw himself into a fight if it meant saving someone else, knowing full well he wasn’t big enough to really do much. Steve was so far from weak. Bucky...maybe Bucky _was_ weak because he couldn’t even stand the idea of Steve seeing him as anything other than flawless. But Steve needed to believe in Bucky. Steve needed to see that someone he’d decided was perfect thought he was perfect back. How would Steve ever accept himself if what was accepting him was broken too? Bucky didn’t want to do that to Steve. 

Sighing heavily, Bucky turned to return to the party. Warm air rushed into his face as he walked inside; closing the sliding door to the balcony. Steve was sitting in a circle on the floor with Peggy, Nat, Peter and some blonde guy with long hair that Bucky hadn’t met yet. They looked to be playing some kind of card game. Bucky stared; smiling a goofy grin as Steve frantically reached for cards and passed his along to Peggy who sat beside him. The large man bumped his shoulder into Steve as he taunted that he was close to winning. They were all smiles and fits of giggles. 

Bucky felt like a raincloud now; his smile slowly fading away. Felt like if he got closer to Steve he’d just suck all that natural color out of Steve’s face till nothing was left but overcast, grayscale. 

“Oh! Bucky! Come play with us!” Steve called as he looked up at Bucky. Bucky loved seeing how Steve’s eyes light up with all the energy from the sun whenever he looked at him. Bucky knew that kind of admiration was only reserved for the kind of person you thought had no faults, and boy did Bucky have faults… 

“What’re you playing?” Bucky asked as he walked over. 

“Spy vs Spy,” Steve said. “Oh and this is Thor. It’s his last name, but...well...look at him.” 

The man craned his neck to nod in greetings at Bucky. “Nice to finally put a face to the name,” the man said happily. He scooted over so Bucky could sit next to Steve.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Bucky mumbled. Suddenly smiling felt exhausting. _‘Don’t do this. Don’t let him down...’_

“Do you know how to play?” Natasha asked. 

Bucky rolled his lips in. “Can’t say that I do.” 

Peggy flashed him a daring smile, winking at him from across the circle. “It’s easy. We’ll teach you,” 

They’d explained the game simply enough. Bucky of course had messed up a number of times, but Steve only seemed to be more amused when he had to come to Bucky’s rescue versus the times Bucky finally caught on. Bucky even started to purposely mess up so Steve could keep showing him how to try to win. Each time he had to explain what Bucky was doing wrong, he’d place a small kiss against Bucky’s ear. Bucky definitely shoved the rules of the game away so he could keep feeling those soft lips against him. 

Smiling stopped feeling so exhausting after awhile, until it seemed to be all Bucky could do. Thor was quick-witted and just as amusing as Tony and Clint, if not more. Everyone continued to tease Peter about his clamming occupation. Thor had even said Peter looked so tense he was about to pop a pearl out. That got Bucky roaring with laughter. 

These were the best kind of people a guy could surround himself with. They reminded Bucky a lot of the Commandos. No one needed to verbally announce that they had your back; you just knew it. You felt it. These people would kill and be killed for Steve. Every single one of them; Tony and Clint included. 

Peter, true to his word, didn’t mention a damn thing further about their balcony conversation. Bucky didn’t trust people easily; at least when it came to sharing secrets, but Bucky was sure he could trust Peter. Peter’s loyalty to Steve was more than just that of a best friend. They were brothers. Over the night, they’d finish each other’s sentences, call each other nicknames and burst out in fits of giggles when they mentioned inside jokes to each other. If Bucky didn’t know better, he’d have said Peter was the one in love with Steve, but he knew better, and he saw the glances he shot Nat’s way. He also saw the glances she sent _his_ way. 

Bucky couldn’t remember a time where he’d had so much fun, not even with the Commandos.

* * *

They’d gotten back to Steve’s apartment at some ungodly hour. Sarah was most likely fast asleep. Her scrubs were laid out on the table. It became her way of saying, “Don’t you two dare make any noises, I work in the morning.” There’d been a few nights where they’d get back late and make a ruckus. She hadn’t taken kindly to those. 

“You wanna stay over?” Steve whispered as he walked to his bedroom. Bucky nodded. He’d started staying over pretty early on. Though, he could argue that he’d started staying over incredibly late, considering they’d been unofficially but officially going steady about three or four months into their correspondences. 

Bucky closed the bedroom door quietly. He watched as Steve went over to his dresser and started rummaging for pajamas. “You really should just start packing clothes when you come over,” Steve said as he pulled out a pair of gym shorts and a band tee. The Ramones. Bucky was always impressed by Steve’s taste in music. He’d jam out to Taylor Swift (when he thought Bucky wasn’t looking) and he’d sing along to The Cure even when he knew Bucky _was_ looking. 

“I’m pretty content with getting to sleep half naked next to you,” Bucky retorted. 

Steve smiled softly, but the shimmer in his eyes had dulled out. “Turn around?” 

Bucky didn’t question it. He abided. Steve wasn’t comfortable with his body and thus he thought Bucky wouldn’t be comfortable with it either. So he pressed his face into the door and imagined what the moon’s silver rays would cast against those soft dips of Steve’s rib bones. The very thought of it got Bucky’s blood pumping. 

“‘K. You can turn back around,” Steve said. 

Bucky turned around as he spotted Steve sitting crosslegged on the bed with his hands in his lap. Bucky dropped his jeans to his ankles; kicking them away. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it atop his jeans. He didn’t hide the approving smile that flirted with his lips as Steve bit at his lips; gaze scanning over Bucky’s body. 

Bucky hopped over into the bed; crashing his lips against Steve’s. He pulled back not even an inch, but enough to relieve the pressure from how intense he’d come down. Again, he never wanted to be too rough with Steve. His tongue lulled into Steve’s mouth lazily as he reveled in Steve’s slightly sweet flavor. He’d eaten cupcakes before they left, Bucky was sure he was tasting the sugar still on Steve’s tongue but that didn’t discredit Steve’s natural flavor. He was always sweet. Bucky pushed Steve back against the bed, getting him to lie down. Bucky crawled atop Steve, not once breaking the kiss as he continued to slowly lap his tongue against Steve’s. 

Occasionally, Steve would make the tiniest little whimper sounds. They’d reach into Bucky’s soul and cause him to practically radiate warmth. Those sounds were _delicious_ and Bucky wanted to devour all of them. He broke the kiss, looking down at Steve’s wet, glistening mouth. “You’re beautiful,” Bucky said. 

Steve just offered a small, half-smile back. 

“No, I mean it. You’re so beautiful.” Bucky pressed kisses against Steve’s cheeks, soft, short puppy kisses that he ran down Steve’s slender jaw and further against his neck. “You’re so beautiful.” 

“Bucky…” Steve sighed. He didn’t push Bucky away. Steve kept his fingers down at Bucky’s hips, caressing the bone softly in lazy circles. So Bucky kept going. 

He ran his tongue over Steve’s Adam’s apple; kissing the other side of his neck in as many places as he could. “I wanna kiss you till my lips are cracked and bruised.” He kissed up Steve’s jaw now, starting from the center of his chin and all the way to the corner of his eyes. “I wanna kiss each eyelash against your face.” He kissed over Steve’s brow. “Kiss every strand of your hair.” He kissed up into Steve’s hairline. 

“Bucky!” Steve giggled out. “That’s a lot of kisses.” 

Bucky pressed a quick kiss against Steve’s lips, flicking his tongue out to lick the side of that red, perfect mouth. “That’s what you deserve.” 

Steve bit at his lip; grimacing. “No it’s not.” 

Bucky rolled to Steve’s side, pressing his head against Steve’s shoulder. “You’ve got the most beautiful wrists,” Bucky said as he grabbed at Steve’s hand, running his other hand over the soft veins that pressed against the skin of Steve’s wrist. “These wrists know how to move just right so your fingers can create the art you do.” He brought Steve’s wrist up to his mouth, pressing a long kiss against the skin. 

Steve laughed. “It just takes practice.”

Bucky licked at the veins of Steve’s wrist, watching Steve shiver. “But not everyone’s strong enough to be that patient.” 

Steve just shrugged. 

Bucky threaded his fingers into Steve’s. “You’ve got more talent in your pinky than I do in my whole body.” 

“You’re better at different things,” Steve countered; his brow furrowing softly. Bucky laughed, craning his neck up so he could kiss at that dimple between Steve’s brow. 

“I don’t deserve you,” Bucky whispered. 

Steve’s eyes rounded. “Y-you...” Whatever he was going to say got gurgled in the back of his throat. 

“Can I take your shirt of?” Bucky asked. “I wanna see everything else that’s perfect about you.” 

Steve fidgeted against the bed; clearly battling himself mentally. “...I dunno... _can_ you?” 

Bucky snorted; sitting up and tucking his legs underneath him. “... _May_ I?” Bucky didn’t consider that an answer. He’d wait till Steve gave him an affirmative yes or no. It didn’t count if Steve didn’t really want it. If Steve was still uncomfortable, Bucky wanted to know. He didn’t mind. He’d wait. He’d already waited so long to be with him. He could wait _years_ if he had to. 

“J-just my shirt. Nothing else,” Steve said tightly. His voice was innocent; like a child’s. 

Bucky pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “Nothing else, baby.” 

Steve sat up; bringing his fingers to the hems of his shirt but Bucky grabbed at them and pushed them away. 

The look of confusion that washed onto Steve’s face was startling but Bucky explained, “I wanna do it.” 

Steve took a deep breath; his brow still furrowed. He closed his eyes. “...Okay.” 

Bucky pulled at Steve’s loose-fitting shirt. He watched small, angular hipbones appear as he slid the cotton shirt up further, he saw the _cutest_ little bellybutton, saw the rivets of ribs that rose and fell as Steve breathed deeply, and finally he saw the raised sternum that shook with trepidation. 

Bucky wanted to cry as he pulled Steve’s shirt over his head. His fingers shook as he reached out and ran his fingers along Steve’s ribs. “Steve,” he breathed out. 

Steve pulled away; wrapping his arms around himself. “M’sorry,” Steve muttered. 

“No,” Bucky whispered slowly. “Steve you’re so beautiful.” He leaned over, kissing at the joints of Steve’s shoulder. “I love how your shoulders rise each time you breathe.” He kissed down Steve’s arm, running his fingers along Steve’s chest as he did so. “I love how your skin feels like cream.” 

Bucky’s heart was racing. He couldn’t deny how _aroused_ he felt as the silver shadows of the night slid across Steve’s delicate form; casting highlights and shadows against the contours of Steve’s body. “You’re not a person,” Bucky breathed out. “You’re a fucking masterpiece.” 

“Bucky,” Steve whined out. It wasn’t defensive. It wasn’t meant to push Bucky away. That tone was needy and so full of desperate desire that Bucky pulled Steve into him, wrapping those little legs around his waist as he pressed his lips against Steve’s. 

Steve’s kisses were desperate as he pulled Bucky’s lip into his mouth and grazed his teeth against the flesh. Bucky purred in response as he rolled his hips against Steve; feeling his cock rub up against Steve’s ass. He wasn’t expecting that. He hadn’t honestly even thought Steve would agree to taking off his shirt but Bucky was so _damn glad_ he had. 

He felt tears slide against his cheek. He pulled back; realizing that they were Steve’s. “You okay, baby?” Bucky whispered. He didn’t dare speak louder. He’d shatter this scene and he didn’t dare risk losing this. If he could pick one thing to see for the rest of his life, he’d pick this moment. 

Steve nodded as he shyly looked at Bucky’s shoulder. He ran his small fingers over a scar there. 

“A parting gift from the war,” Bucky stated. He kissed those fingers atop his skin before slipping his lips against Steve’s again. This is what it really felt like to come home; to be wrapped in the arms and legs of the only person that’s heart beat with your own. This is what it felt like to share a soul with someone. Bucky rolled his hips again, feeling Steve’s cock rub against his abdomen. 

Steve yelped delicately as his eyes fluttered shut. He pressed his lips back against Bucky’s; slipping his tongue into Bucky’s mouth as his fingers twisted into Bucky’s hair. Bucky rocked his hips, letting Steve’s cock graze against him each time as he did so. He wouldn’t ask to touch. He wouldn’t ask to remove any more clothing than he already had. Steve had said, “Just the shirt,” and Bucky would respect that. But he wouldn’t deny how _good_ it felt when Steve gasped out those little, pleasurable gasps, or how intoxicated he’d get when Steve would kiss him just the slightest bit more passionately each time Bucky’d press the tip of his cock into Bucky’s abs. 

Bucky had never so badly wanted to tell someone how much he loved him. But he was terrified. He didn’t want to push Steve away. He didn’t want to become any more overbearing than he already was, and he _knew_ he was overbearing. So he didn’t. Instead, he broke the kiss to utter soft, whispered compliments. “Your bellybutton’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

Steve just kissed at his jaw; rocking _his_ hips against Bucky’s. 

“Your neck’s like a doe’s and I want to spend at least five years kissing each centimeter of it.” 

Steve brushed his nose against Bucky’s, nipping at the tip of it playfully. 

Bucky purred; rocking his hips against Steve’s rhythmically now. “I think the whole world stops breathing when you smile.” His words had become huskier; more desperate. He felt tears begin to sting in his eyes. But he didn’t care. He pressed his lips into Steve’s shoulders, sucking at the silken skin as he felt Steve’s lips against his earlobe, licking at it slowly. He’d spend the rest of eternity just like this if Steve would let him. He’d stay like this till his spine broke, till the muscles in his arms faded away and he was nothing but dust. 

“Steve…” Bucky panted as he brought his lips back to Steve’s lips. “You’re so beautiful I sometimes forget you’re real.” 

Steve laughed into the kiss. “You’re just being funny,” he responded. 

“Serious,” Bucky said as he pulled back from the kiss briefly. He rolled his hips again, feeling electric pulses searing down his spine and spreading out like wildfire. He pressed his lips firmer against Steve’s; scratching his scruff gently against the other’s chin. “I wish you saw you the way I see you.”

Steve hadn’t stopped crying. Bucky brushed his nose over those wet tear-tracks as he rolled his hips again to meet Steve’s. His muscles were trembling now; they both were. 

“Bucky,” Steve breathily moaned out. “God, Bucky…” 

Bucky ran his fingers up and down the curve of Steve’s spine. He kissed at Steve’s neck, his collarbone, and back up to those plush, swollen lips. “You’re beautiful, baby,” Bucky said again. And he’d say it again. He’d say it over and over; for forever and always. He’d say it till Steve believed it. He’d say it till it was the only sentence he knew. Steve Rogers was beautiful and he’d tell the whole damn world that. 

“B-Bucky!” Steve yelped out. “Bucky...I…” 

Bucky felt Steve’s legs clench around him. He lulled his hips up into Steve, pressing his love’s little cock against his stomach as much as he could; giving him as much pleasure as he could. Bucky ran his fingers over those defined shoulders and down that slender back. He wouldn’t touch Steve’s ass. It was a silent expression of how much he respected Steve. And he respected everything about Steve. He hadn’t asked permission; he didn’t deserve to know how good that little ass would feel in his hands till he asked. But right now, he wasn’t concerned with that. Right now he was concerned about how good he was making Steve feel each time he swayed his hips just right. He was more concerned about the warmth that was building in his own abdomen each time Steve gasped out or whimpered softly. 

He licked into Steve’s mouth as Steve dropped his head slightly back; mouth open and panting. He wanted to say it… He wanted to say how much he loved Steve. He wanted to _scream_ it. He pulled Steve’s face against his; breathing roughly as he shivered, feeling his balls tense up into him briefly. 

“O-oh God, oh God! _Bucky_!” Steve cried out as he quickly rocked his hips against Bucky; greedily trying to get as much pleasure as he possibly could out of the bigger man. 

The motion only served to pull Bucky over the edge as he came into his briefs; feeling his cock pulsate out his seed as pleasure surged out from the base of Bucky’s spine; to his shoulders all the way down into his toes. Bucky desperately claimed Steve’s mouth, moaning into Steve as he fought the now overpowering desire to spew out how much he loved Steve. His whole body shook as he rode out his orgasm, rolling his hips up and into Steve as much as he could; breathing heavily through his nose till he started to whimper into Steve’s mouth. 

He dropped himself backwards, forcing Steve to clash atop him; their lips still intertwined. Bucky cradled the back of Steve’s head as he slid his tongue into Steve’s mouth again; swirling it around Steve’s playfully before pulling back. Steve shimmied down Bucky till he could drop his head against Bucky’s heaving chest. 

“That…” Steve panted. “That’s never happened to me before.”

Bucky stared up at the ceiling; looking at the water damage in the corner of the room. “Me either,” he mumbled.    

Steve kissed Bucky’s chest before pressing his head back down. “So you did...that too?” 

Bucky laughed. “Yeah, Steve. I did that too.”

“Your heart’s goin’ so fast,” Steve stated. “Like it’s gunna explode.” 

Bucky huffed in amusement through his nose. “It’s gonna leap into your chest.”

Steve straddled Bucky, sitting up as he picked Bucky’s hand up and pressed it to his chest. “Mine’s gonna explode too.”

Bucky used his free hand to caress the side of Steve’s face. He traced his fingers over Steve’s bottom lip. “It’s gonna leap into my chest.” 

“So we switch hearts?” Steve laughed. “That sucks for you.”

Bucky smiled dreamily; the lingering sensation of his orgasm floating about his nerves. “No…” he began softly; still too scared to ruin this moment if he spoke too loud. “You get to protect my heart and I get to protect yours. 

It was the closest way he could say he loved Steve without outright saying it. He wanted to, but he was still _so scared_. Peter knew and he didn’t seem remotely phased. He’d even went so far as to say that they were “crazy about each other” maybe indicating that Steve loved Bucky too. But Bucky couldn’t take that chance yet. He didn’t want to push Steve further into something he wasn’t comfortable with. The last thing Bucky wanted to do was scare Steve away with how intense his feelings were for Steve. So he just used as cheesy of lines as he possibly could. Maybe Steve knew. Maybe he didn’t. But Bucky was honestly too scared to say it first.

So for tonight he’d settle with holding Steve as close as he could; kissing the top of his head till Steve fell asleep. Till he wasn’t so scared− he’d _show_ Steve how much he loved him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize how long this chapter is. I didn't mean to take up that much of your time!!  
> The post it notes say:  
> "This is what we're doing today. Take a guess. PS You're Really Pretty, Bucky"
> 
> "Roses are red, violets are blue, this poem is shitty, but I made it for you. Bucky. PS, you're really, really pretty."  
> I didn't think they really needed a whole new chapter in our Letters Only section. X'D 
> 
> Let us know what you think! We love hearing from you!!!!


	4. Confidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky nearly follows Peter's advice. Peter has a confidence booster most don't have the chance of ever receiving. Bucky and Steve have a quiet discussion at dinner, only for the entire event to go sour on them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, no room for post-it notes or letters in this chapter. :( More to come in the next chapter!!! 
> 
> Hold onto your hats, this one is a bit of a doozy!!! All I'll say is this: Poor Bucky  
> This fic has a photoset and it's located here: [Click me!](http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/post/124681158988/ps-i-love-you-explicit-410-chapters-updates/)

Bucky sat on one of the wooden benches of the VA building. He shook his knees anxiously as he looked around at some of the vets. A lot of them were far worse off than him. Several had prosthetic limbs, others had deep facial scarring and eyes that only spoke of horror. Bucky had been so lucky to have Steve to keep his head level during his tour. He’d done some stupid things at the end, but for the most part, Steve was his saving grace. Stupid things… They were just following orders. There wasn’t supposed to be an ambush. It was supposed to have been clear…

Bucky gripped the wooden bench, his knuckles turning white as his memories flashed back to a land stained red with fire and blood. Sweat clung to his body as if he’d entered a sauna. Screaming. Shouting. Cries of terror and pain filled Bucky’s eardrums, beating loudly against them as they struggled to fight off the noise.

Bucky grabbed at his head, groaning as he shook the memories away. PTSD… He’d tried to ignore it. He’d tried to toss his fears away and pretend they weren’t anything impressive. He’d been so sure his anxiety would just wear away as he got adjusted to civilian life, but he’d been back for a little over a month now and now that Peter had pointed out Bucky’s condition, Bucky couldn’t pretend anymore.

He had ghosts haunting him, plaguing his thoughts and bringing him back to a place he never wanted to see again. He’d seen his friends die. He saw other friends screaming, terrified with blood dripping from brows and eyes round and white. Luckily, most of his Commandos got out alive. Most. Bucky had lost so many friends that day, people from other platoons, medics, radio techs, field surgeons… People who weren’t even supposed to be in a firefight because it was supposed to be safe! The path was supposed to have been safe!

“Sergeant Barnes?” a dark-skinned man with a smooth, creamy voice questioned. “S’about time you came in.”

“What?” Bucky asked, looking up at the man. He was easy on the eyes. Had great cheekbones. _‘Steve’s prettier.’_

“Petty Officer Quill told me about you. Name’s Sam. I work with vets and their transitions home. Get ‘em feeling like they’re not out in the field anymore. Make ‘em realize they’re safe.”

“I know I’m safe,” Bucky shot back. He felt uncomfortable. He hated how this guy felt he knew more about Bucky than Bucky knew about...Bucky.

Sam extended his hand to Bucky, waiting patiently for a handshake. Bucky stood up begrudgingly and shook the man’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Sam.”

“So, ARMY huh? I was Air Force,” Sam chatted.

Bucky resisted the urge to correct him with “Chair Force.” Bucky knew the Air Force did amazing and great things. All the military worked as branches, serving as various limbs and nerves to each other, but of course, each one liked to believe they were the best. “You a pilot?”

“Was. How long’ve you been back?”

Bucky shrugged. “Little over a month.”

“What’s your favorite part of being home?” Sam asked.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. He felt like this guy wasn’t just asking him questions to get to know him. Bucky was pretty sure he was analyzing him… “My boyfriend,” Bucky responded curtly. “Got me through a lotta of shit durin’ my tour. Glad to be with ‘em now.”

Sam’s brows raised for a fraction of a second, but Bucky saw the surprise. Clearly he hadn’t anticipated Bucky being gay. Most people didn’t. Apparently Bucky didn’t fit in the “boxes” that most straight people associated with homosexuality. It was one of the reasons Bucky never attempted to hide it. He was big, gruff, and liked sports. Just because he was gay didn’t mean he had to be obsessed with Barbra Streisand and Prada.

“It’s good you had someone to fight for,” Sam said evenly. “You gonna sign up for our sessions? Completely free to vets.”

Bucky dug his hands into his pockets. “Dunno.” He’d come here to sign up for the sessions, but now it all felt...weak. Bucky didn’t like admitting he had a problem. He didn’t want to have a problem. It was all mental right? He could just get over it himself…

Sam offered a soft smile. “Well, if you want to, just go over to the lady at the desk and she’ll give you all the details. No pressure. You don’t even have to share if you don’t wanna. Hell, I even recommend you sit quietly your first session and just watch everyone else.”

Bucky’s heart burned. He hated hearing the tender pity in this man’s voice. He seemed nice. He probably was nice, but Bucky didn’t like being handled as if he was a thin piece of glass. He was stronger than that. He didn’t need this…

“Sure,” Bucky responded distantly. “Did Peter come to your sessions?”

Sam smiled. “All Peter said to me was that he had a friend back from the war and that I should meet him. All I needed to do was look in your eyes to see some of the shit you saw.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Bucky stated, biting at the side of his lip.

“Ask him. I don’t go around telling people’s business.” Sam looked over his shoulder, watching a few people file into one of the rooms with metal chairs all circled up. “Hey, I gotta go. Come on in if you want. Just watch it all, no pressure.”

Bucky inhaled deeply, watching a vet with a prosthetic arm walk in. They needed this so much more than him. He didn’t need this. He just needed Steve. Steve was how he got through the war, Steve was how he was going to get through the rest of his life. This was just a waste of time…

“Maybe,” Bucky answered hesitantly. “I’ll go sign up with your secretary.”

Sam offered another smile, clapping Bucky gently on the back before rounding to go into the other room. “Nice meeting you, Sergeant Barnes.”

“It’s just Bucky,” Bucky called softly.

Sam nodded in the doorway. “Sure thing, Bucky.”

Sighing, Bucky turned toward the secretary. His tongue felt thick and sticky in the back of his throat and his fingers were tingling. He walked over to the woman, smiling softly.

“Good afternoon!” she greeted warmly. “What can I do for you?”

“M’here for...counseling. To sign up.” This didn’t feel right. Bucky’s whole body was protesting this. He felt like his limbs were on fire, like he was running up a mountain only he was just standing there!

She handed him a clipboard with a few pages of paperwork. “Fill this out for me, sweetie. Bring it back when you’re finished.”

Bucky stretched out a shaky hand, taking the clipboard. He sat right outside the room, watching Sam begin his meeting. Sam had a gentle voice and big, calm eyes. He was great for this. The way the other vets looked at him with admiration and respect, the way he looked at them with that same expression. Dignity was a big thing for vets. They wouldn’t relinquish it even if someone held a gun to their head. Sam knew better than any other shrink how to handle a vet’s dignity and from how he made a few of the vets laugh, Bucky thought Sam knew exactly what he was doing.

So he filled out his paperwork, listening to the stories of vets who went through things far worse than Bucky. He heard about legs being blown off, friends dying in their arms and kidnappings. He hovered his pen over the second page. Bucky didn’t need this. Nothing that bad happened to him. He didn’t get a limb blown off. He wasn’t kidnapped. He’d just been ambushed. He’d heard guns and saw explosions and blood. It happened around him but not to him. This was a waste of Sam’s time and Bucky’s.

Bucky stood up, tossing the clipboard back to the woman.

“Sergeant, you’re not finished,” she called back as he started to walk toward the door.

“Changed my mind,” Bucky grumbled as he left. Fuck this. He was fine. Nothing was wrong with him. He’d just been surprised. That’s it. He’d just been surprised.

* * *

 

Steve sat on Peggy’s ancient sofa, nursing a soda and staring at the screen in front of him in boredom. The television was playing some low-budget game show from the basic cable channel; it was a seemingly useless game with really no point to it other than making the contestants look like fools jumping about the stage and cheering in overt excitement. But he kept his eyes locked on the screen anyway, allowing the mind-numbing colors and cheering of a canned audience to dull his senses enough to think.

He just couldn’t shake the memories of the other night from his head; no matter how hard he tried, the guilt of leading Bucky into what was essentially a trap was clawing at his conscience like some wild animal ready to chew him up and spit him out, skin and gristly bones and all. Steve shook his head firmly; he closed his eyes as he pictured, almost in crystal clarity, the look of sheer terror that had flashed across Bucky’s face the moment the lights had come up, dousing him entirely and surrounding him as completely as the unanimous shouts that had rattled him to the core.

Steve sighed, lifting his glass to his lips and taking a tentative sip. What else about this budding romance could he possibly fuck up? He’d already lied to Bucky for nearly a year. Now he’d blatantly forgotten to take into consideration that just maybe Bucky suffered some sort of trauma from being nearly blown up in a foreign country surrounded by sand, blood, and fear. ‘ _Sure, let’s throw him into a surprise party, where everyone’s screaming in his ear at once… that’s real smart, Stevie...’_

But then he remembered how Bucky had taken him to bed that very same night; how sweetly Bucky had held him, had kissed him… had touched him and made him feel so Goddamn good. Sure, Steve had had his fair share of orgasms in the past, but he couldn’t say he’d necessarily had his cherry popped. Maybe tickled? Steve snorted to himself, thinking of that horrible analogy, and wondering exactly where the fuck he went wrong. “God, what is wrong with me…”

“Not nearly as much as you think, Stevie,” Peggy’s voice piped up, dragging Steve from his thoughts.

The tiny blond looked up from the sofa to see his friend standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. He smirked, scooting over on the cushions to allow Peggy to sit next to him. “Sorry, Peg. Just thinkin’ out loud I guess.”

“Ah, yes. And you’re going to make me guess exactly why you feel like something is wrong with you?” Peggy asked, wrapping her arm around his waist.

Steve went willingly. He curled up in her lap, setting the glass down onto the floor in front of them. He always liked sitting in Peggy’s lap; she was the only other woman in the world that made Steve feel warm and safe, aside from his mother. Looking up at her from the cradle of her lap, Steve smiled. “Just… thinking about the surprise party. I should’a known that it might’ve been a bad idea. Take an ex-soldier and scream in his face. Real smooth…”

“You forget that it was almost entirely my doing,” Peggy replied, brushing her fingers through his fine hair. “It was my idea that we throw him a surprise party. Not yours. You suggested a quiet dinner, don’t you remember?”

Steve shrugged, staring at the now silent television and watching the game show contestants waving their arms enthusiastically as they cheered for whatever the hell was going on at that moment. “Yeah, but I could have thought ahead and suggested otherwise when you brought it up,” he countered, glancing up at her with big puppy eyes.

Peggy sighed, letting her head fall back against the back of the sofa for a moment. “For God’s sake, Steve. It was a mistake. Bucky isn’t mad at you for it. He’s more than over it, as far as I can tell. I think it’s time that you let it go, too,” She stated, giving Steve the stink-eye. “ _Before_ you go and do something silly.”

Steve pondered her words for a moment. staring at the ceiling above them as he tried to let her words really take root in his head. As much as he wanted to just let it be that easy, Steve couldn’t let it go. He knew he was being ridiculous, but the deeply ingrained belief that Bucky would wake up one morning and realize exactly how stupid it was to stick with Steve, and then unceremoniously dump him on his ass, just loomed in the back of his mind driving Steve crazy. He scrubbed his hand over his face, staring ruefully at the bony jut of his wrist bone sticking out from his skin. ‘What I wouldn’t give to be normal… Bucky needs normal in his life, now. After everything he’s been through…’

It took Steve a brief moment to realize he was being spoken to. When he looked up, he saw Peggy staring down at him expectantly. “Huh...? I’m sorry... I wasn’t listening,” he muttered and blushed a deep, cherry red under her scrutinizing gaze.

Peggy sighed; though as she did, the hint of an amused smile flickered at the corner of her painted lips. “I said, when is Bucky coming over to pick you up? Didn’t you say something about him going to some sort of appointment today?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, he did. I dunno what for though; he didn’t say. I assume it has something to do with his G.I. Bill. He’s been going on about tryin’ to make sure everything’s taken care of before the semester starts in January. At least, I’m gonna assume that’s where he went.” Steve glanced at his watch, smiling a little. “He should be here any time now.”

Just as he spoke, the sound of the door knob rattling echoed from the apartment door. Both looked up to see the handle turning, and instantly Steve relaxed. He knew Bucky; even if he’d been given explicit permission from Peggy multiple times by now, he wouldn’t just let himself into her apartment. Not yet at least. It had to be Peter. Everyone joked that Peter’s second home was the living room floor of Peggy’s apartment; the three of them spent the most time together as it was, and it wasn’t uncommon for Peggy to come home from work and find one of them snoozing on her sofa, or watching the television while they waited for her. Steve sat up from Peggy’s lap, glancing at the door as Peter entered. “Hey, Peter!” Steve beamed; however, the moment his words left his mouth, Steve noticed the odd expression on Peter’s face. His smile fell from his lips. “You okay?”

Peter had a large reputation for being the most cheerful of men on any given day. Steve didn’t often see Peter looking even remotely negative. Even during the worst of times, Peter always seemed to see the silver lining in a situation, and it was rare to see him looking upset. The last time Steve had seen Peter this down had been when Steve was in the hospital the winter before last, for pneumonia. It had been a scary two weeks for all of them, and Steve had been touched to find his best friend had given up almost a month’s worth of paid work to stay by his side while he recovered.

Peter had done his best to hide his upset, but Steve knew better; while Peter had been his usual, sprightly self in front of Steve, he’d been scared out of his mind for his best friend’s safety. Steve knew Peter had watched someone he cared for wither away and die in a hospital bed; to see a second person he loved confined to wires and tubes had been a nightmare relived for Peter, and he’d been terrified that if Steve died, he would have been unable to do a thing about it. Peggy had confirmed Peter’s worries to Steve once he’d been discharged from the hospital. No one said a word on the matter; instead, Steve showered his friend with his gratitude in other ways, and the scare was left forgotten in the past, where it belonged. There was never a need to dwell on the rare moments when Peter’s smile had dwindled away to nothing.

This was one of those rare moments, it seemed. Even more strange, was the fact that Peter didn’t even acknowledge his statement; Peter was notorious for being overly mouthy and quick to butt in on a conversation, even when he wasn’t involved. He never ignored a question. “Hey, Star-lord. Get your head out of the sky and come back down to earth,” Steve added.

As if roused from a trance, Peter looked up at the two of them and blinked as if he hadn’t noticed they were there. “Oh, hey. Sorry just…” Peter cut himself off, waving his hand noncommittally before finding a chair to slump in. He hadn’t even taken off his coat. After a few moments of silence, Peter looked up at the two of them again and offered up an awkward smirk. “Saw your boyfriend coming down the block when I came in. I tried to wave at him, but I don’t think he saw me.”

Both Peggy and Steve looked at each other with wide eyes. This hesitant, strange behavior was something entirely new to both of them, and it seemed that neither of them could read the other to figure out exactly what it was that was plaguing Peter’s mind. Steve leaned back in his seat, watching Peggy carefully; if anyone could break someone out of their shell and get them talking, it was Peggy. She had this way about her that got everyone talking, no matter what.

Peggy chewed her bottom lip, glancing over at the door as she heard a knock; Bucky had arrived. “Door’s open!” She called, turning to face Peter head on. “Alright, what’s going on with you?” She asked; she rested her elbows on her knees and steepled her fingers together. “You look like someone kicked your dog. Did something happen to the _Milano?_ ”

Steve briefly tuned out of the conversation, glancing up to see Bucky enter the room. His heart pattered happily in his chest at the sight of his boyfriend and he immediately scooted over to allow Bucky some room. When the brunet had crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Steve upon sitting, the blond happily settled into his arms with a sigh. He turned his attention back to Peter while his best friend got the third degree about his fishing boat. There had been a string of graffiti incidents in the area lately, but it didn’t really make sense that Peter would look this bothered if his boat had been tagged at all; realistically, he would have just made a quip about the artists forgetting to draw big dicks on his boat. This wasn’t upset at that.

“What’s up with him?” Bucky asked, diverting Steve’s attention back to him for a brief moment.

Steve shrugged, leaning his shoulder into Bucky’s side for a moment. “Dunno. He just came in right before you did.” Steve replied.

Peter, for his part, just looked even more uncomfortable as Peggy grilled him over his mood. “No, nothing happened to the _Milano_. But I’m glad to know you’re so concerned about my best… nah, scratch that.. my ONLY asset of living I have.” he said, his voice void of his usual pep.

Now Steve was definitely concerned. Aside from Peter’s dour expression, now he was belittling his boat? Peter had been over-the-moon ecstatic when he’d finally signed off on the title of the _Milano_ and had insisted he take everyone out for a pleasure ride in the harbor the day he had received her. Peter was proud of the _Milano_. So why, now, was he so despondent about her? “Peter… you’re kinda worrying us, what’s going on?”

Peter waved his hand again, offering them all a slightly more positive smile “Nothing! I swear, nothing’s wrong,” He said, his voice taking on a lighter tone. “C’mon let’s see what’s on the boobtube.” He reached for the remote, signaling that he had had enough of the topic at that moment.

That seemed to put an end to the conversation for the time being; no one objected as Peter snatched up the remote and began flipping through the channels, one by one. When he’d settled on an old sci-fi movie, the four of them fell into silence together, just watching what was on the screen with barely concealed disinterest. Steve, feeling awkward enough, settled further into the cradle of Bucky’s arms and rested his cheek against his chest as they watched the screen flickering brightly in front of them.

About twenty minutes into the movie, Steve felt Bucky shifting beneath him and he looked up; Bucky was staring at Peter. Oddly enough, it was the same expression he himself had gotten when Bucky was trying to worm information about himself into the conversation at Starbucks. Too late, Steve realized that Bucky was about to employ that same tactic on Peter. “Bucky…”

“Sooo, Peter,” Bucky piped up, ignoring Steve’s attempts at intervening the conversation. “I was talkin’ to Nat yesterday. She said you two were goin’ on a date last night. How’d it go? Aren’t ya gonna tell us how it went?” he asked.

All at once, Steve realized Bucky was right. Peter had finally gone on that date with Nat, six years too late… could that have been why Peter looked so off? Like a switch, Steve went right back to feeling like the worst person in the world; how could he not recognize that his best friend in the world was hurting? That expression was disappointment and rejection, sure as sure could be. Steve instantly snapped his gaze to Peggy; he felt a little better to see that Peggy only now recognized the expression for what it was. Surely, the two couldn’t blame themselves for not recognizing it on Peter. They didn’t often see Peter upset enough to warrant recognition.

But Bucky was definitely an expert at seeing and recognizing this sort of depression…

Peter bristled at the question; bristled was the only word that could effectively describe it. For the second time that day, Steve saw a look he’d never in a million years thought he’d ever see on Peter’s face: calm, cool and collected Peter Quill was annoyed.

“Went fine.” Peter said, his voice tight and high. “Picked her up at her place, took her out to eat at Chef’s Table, and then couple hours later, took her home. That’s the basic recipe for a date, right? So it went fine.”

The silence that permeated the room was beyond stifling; Steve shifted in his spot and cleared his throat with a heavy-set frown on his lips. “Peter… you sure you’re okay? You kinda don’t look like it went well.” Steve definitely prayed he was reading this wrong, and that Peter was just being coy about it all. He would hate to find out that after everything he’d put Peter through, his date had crashed and burned. Worst of all, here he stood with the arms of the man he was undeniably in love with in front of him, after Peter had helped kickstart his relationship, and rubbing it in his face that only one of them had gotten their dream partner, purposefully or not.

Clearly, the feeling of discomfort was mutual. Peter barked a laugh, and stared at the ceiling with his fingers curled around the arms of the chair in a vice grip. “Guys! I mean it, it went fine. Just… drop it alright? It’s all good.”

Peggy leaned forward and leveled Peter with her best mothering expression she could manage. Steve hated that look; he’d been on the receiving end of it many times in his life. “Peter… if the date went well, then why won’t you talk about it?” She asked, raising a brow at him.

That was the last straw. Steve jumped a foot in the air when Peter slammed his hands on the arms of the chair in irritation. “Jesus and Mary, Peg, it was fine!” Peter barked, shooting her a sharp look before he rose from his seat. “I’m getting a beer. Anyone want some?”

“Peter, it’s 10 in the morning…” Peggy sighed, sounding just on the wrong side of angry. “Fine, if the date went fine, then tell us: are you two going on a second date?”

“Nope.” Peter replied, popping the “p” with his lips as he strode into the kitchen. The sound of bottles being rummaged through in the fridge echoed into the room, and the three remaining on the sofa glanced at each other for a long moment. In sync, the three of them stood up and walked to the kitchen where they found Peter leaned against the counter, chugging an IPA without a care.

“You know that’s my favorite brand, Peter... “ Peggy stated coolly as she watched her friend carefully. “Alright… spill. What happened? Why do you seem like your date was the nightmare of all dates?”

_“Jesus!_ ” Peter sighed, putting the bottle down on the counter with a heavy thud before glancing at them all with huge, tired eyes. “Okay, fine! It was a bungle, alright? A complete and utter waste of time.” He glared at the three of them for a moment before he lost his energy and glanced down at the floor. Even when he was trying to be angry, Peter just couldn’t keep up the effort. Now he just looked disappointed and a little resigned. “At least I got that date, so… thanks lil’ man. You kept up your end of the deal.”

Bucky spoke up, holding his hand out to Peter. “Before you go throwin’ in the towel, exactly how bad of a “bungle” was the night?” Bucky curled his fingers in air-quotes, before he continued. “Maybe you’re just readin’ this wrong. Maybe Nat didn’t think it was a bad night at all.”

“Oh…” Peter scoffed. “Oh, it was a nightmare. You know what Chef’s Table is like, right? Fancy, Suits, Pearls, stuffy concierges, and after dinner mints? Yeah, that’s where I took her... I picked Nat up, in my beater car, and took her to one of the nicest restaurants in Brooklyn, like I thought that was a good idea. I decided I was gonna wear a damn monkey suit, and ended up sweating my balls off the entire night, and just.. I clammed up. I couldn’t speak English for the life of me.”

He waved his hands in the air, his cheeks flushing dark red. “Bless her poor, ginger soul, she tried so hard to get me to open up, and I just couldn’t. I swear, I was possessed last night, I don’t know what the hell happened to me. Then at the end of the night, I spilled red wine on her white dress, and my credit card got declined with a two hundred dollar bill. The waitress was so kind as to loudly announce to everyone around us that my card was over the limit, and everyone sitting around us started laughing. I forgot I’d just paid for repairs on the _Milano_ last week. Poor Nat, she had to pay for the whole thing with her card instead. Then when I took her home, all I could manage was a kiss on the cheek. All I kept seeing was that shitty red wine stain on her dress, and just felt dirty kissing her, like… like I didn’t deserve even that. I swear, I never bolted so fast in my life.”

Peter finished his tale, slumping against the counter before he huffed a laugh. “So yeah… ‘bungle in the jungle’, bungle. Spiral, crash and burn. I’m turning in my man-card after this.” Peter scrubbed his fingers through his curly hair for a moment before shaking his head. “At least I can go down in history and say I finally had a date with Natasha Romanov. Bucket list complete. Gonna go back to clamming in a ratty boat for 30k a year, reeking of fish water and failure.” He paused, looking up at them for a moment with a wry grin on his lips. “This is the part where Clint is supposed to jump out of the hamper with a clam pun, so I can punch something in the face.”

Steve watched Peter, feeling his chest constricting tightly. Despite his humored tone and choice of words, it was clear that Peter was feeling burned by the night before and that it had definitely emasculated him as a human being. It just didn’t sit well with Steve to see Peter as upset as he was. “Maybe it’s not that big of a deal… Maybe Bucky is right,” Steve offered, trying to smile at his friend. “You know Nat, she probably thought the whole night was hysterical. Did she say she didn’t want a second date with you?”

Peter shook his head, looking at his friend. “Nah, lil’ man. She didn’t say it, but I’ve had plenty of sour dates in the past and if they end that God-awful, it’s almost a sure guarantee that a second date is on the chopping block from that moment on.” Peter snorted, waving his hands. “I mean, c’mon! You know she’s always been outta my league, bro. She barely said two words to me in high school. Enlisting in the NAVY and joining a gym didn’t change the social lines between us.”

“Oh for God’s sake, Peter,” Peggy sighed, looking a little saddened as she spoke. “The two of you, I swear I’m going to have to teach you both how to have a bit of confidence. You know Natasha isn’t that shallow; she always found you quite likeable. Stop being so hard on yourself.”

Peter rolled his eyes in response, but didn’t say another word. Instead, he went back to nursing his beer, staring at the floor for a moment in dejection.

Steve sighed, feeling a bit defeated by his friend’s downtrodden behavior. He wanted nothing more than to do something to make his friend feel better; regardless of how little Steve could really do, he just wished he could make his best friend smile again, despite the circumstances at hand. He’d just turned to exit the kitchen and allow Peter his moment to himself, when he ran smack into Bucky’s chest and stumbled backwards. “Oof!” he grunted and looked up at him in surprise. “Whoa. When did you leave the room?” Steve asked, looking up at Bucky with wide eyes.

Bucky smirked, shooting Steve a wink before holding his phone up. Steve glanced down at it, and his eyes blew wide in his skull. Bucky’s phone was on, and the image of a call was lit brightly across the screen. The person on the other end: Natasha. “Buck… what the…”

“Hey, Peter!” Bucky exclaimed, holding the phone out in the flat of his palm. “Someone’s on the phone for you.” Bucky crossed the room to give Peter his phone; the smile that lit his lips could only be described as smug.

Peter blinked, looking up from the floor at the phone in Bucky’s palm. He reached for the device with a tentative hand, plucking it from Bucky’s fingers as if he expected it to come to life and bite him. When he pressed the device to his ear and uttered a meek ‘hello’, Steve watched in awe as his friend’s face melted from confusion, to horror, and straight on into accusation in record time. Peter shot Bucky a dark and vicious glare before pressing the speaker button and holding the phone out. “Okay, it’s on speaker phone….”

_“Alright, just making sure, am I really on speaker phone?”_ Natasha’s voice rang out into the room, tinny and metallic sounding from the little speaker in the back of the device. When everyone spoke to the affirmative, Natasha continued. _“Alright, good. I need to have witnesses for this.”_

Natasha went quiet for a brief moment, allowing Peter enough time to mouth a few silent death threats Bucky’s way. When she spoke again, the entire room fell silent around them, stunned by the authority in her voice. _“PETER JASON QUILL, if I EVER hear about you talking down about yourself like that again, I will personally drive over to your apartment and kick your ass myself! The date that we went on together was not a flawless one, I am not disagreeing with that. But if you recall, I actually had a very good time, and I PERSONALLY asked you if you would want to go with me to the movies this weekend. But, as I’m fairly certain now from the way Bucky described it, you were too busy worrying about trying to model the ideal date for me, because you think that’s what I expect out of a guy? And you’re disappointed because it didn’t work? You idiot!”_

Steve winced, watching as Peter stared at the phone with shock written across his increasingly paler face. “But Nat…” Peter started.

_“I wasn’t done!”_ Natasha interrupted, her voice definitive. But as he listened to his best friend get preached at over the phone, Steve actually heard amusement in the undertones of her voice. Leave it to Nat to get a kick out of lecturing someone like this. _“You may not have known this, but I knew more about you in high school than you seem to think, and I always thought you were a pretty awesome guy. And when we graduated high school, I found out a lot of interesting things about you. You’re not a coward, Peter. A coward doesn’t survive infiltrating a Chinese terrorist threat against the United States, while crammed in a giant metal tube with 200 other claustrophobic people. A coward doesn’t take control of a huge pirate rig with twelve other American captives in the middle of the Indian ocean, armed with basic rifles. And a coward certainly doesn’t survive high school after his dad abandoned him and his mom died of cancer, and still graduate with a 3.0 GPA. You’re not a coward, Peter. Stop acting like one and go on a second date with me!”_

The entire room was as quiet as the grave. Steve stared at the phone for a long moment while his heart hammered wildly in his chest. He’d known about the Chinese threat thing, but he’d had no idea that Peter had been imprisoned and fought fucking pirates of all things. How the hell did Nat know that? Steve was going to have a serious talk with Peter about that later on, and demand to know what the hell he’d been thinking keeping something that big from him.

But now was not the time to focus on that. Instead, he looked up at Peter, waiting to hear his answer as eagerly as his two companions did. To his right, Bucky sidled up to him and wrapped his arm around his waist; he tugged Steve close and the tiny blond looked up to see Bucky’s features had fallen from smug intent to grave understanding and determination. Clearly, Bucky could read the apprehension coming off of Peter way better than Steve could, and he’d been friends with him for less than a month! It was obvious that Peter and Bucky had a connection that Steve could never come to understand; two vets whom had seen far too much in their lives, and still came back to the real world to live as normally as possible. This new bit of information opened up a hell of a lot more about Peter and Bucky than Steve had previously fathomed. It now made complete sense to Steve why Peter would still feel less than adequate, even after everything he’d been through. Joining the military didn’t make them invincible; it made them both even more human.

Still, Natasha’s words seemed to open up something inside Peter that made him reconsider his earlier doubts. He swallowed, looking to Steve in resignation before he sighed. “Well, since you drive a mean argument there, how can I refuse?” he asked, his voice weak as he flashed a smile at the phone in his hands.

_“Good. And this time, forgo the suit and tie and let’s do something we’ll both really enjoy. Go with what you think is right, not what everyone else thinks makes the perfect date. I know you, Peter;  you are not the white collar, preppy type. You’re a great guy with a much better style than that. You like having fun. You have a hell of a lot better taste than Chef’s Table. Let’s go on a date you planned. Not a stereotype. Got me?”_

Peter huffed a laugh, staring at the ceiling of the kitchen before shooting Steve an unreadable look. “Yes, Ma’am. You doin’ anything tonight?”

_“I purposefully took tonight off just for this occasion.”_ Natasha replied, sounding far too smug over the echo of the little speaker. _“I’ll see you tonight at 7.”_ With that, the line went dead and a collective sigh was heard in the kitchen.

Peter didn’t move for a long moment. When he finally did, he glanced up and  approached Bucky, handing him his phone with a stern look. “I should probably kill you for that,” he muttered, their hands clasped for a moment over the phone. “But since you’re obviously a super secret ARMY spy I’m not aware of, I think I’ll forgo murder and just say thanks. Seriously, I don’t know how you knew that would work, but shit, that just saved my dignity and my ass.”

Bucky laughed, tossing his head back as he shook Peter’s hand. “I sorta owed you for the whole ‘fake Steve’ thing, so consider this my half of the repayment. Now get outta here, you have reservations to make.”

Peter beamed, looking between Bucky and Steve before giving Bucky a hug. “Sure thing, man.”

“Peter,” Steve said sternly, wrapping his arms around his waist as the taller man pulled him into a hug next. “You’ve got some seriously explaining to do, later. Pirates? Really? You didn’t think that was important tell me? Who else knew?!”

Peter flushed, looking highly embarrassed as he glanced over his shoulder. Steve looked up, watching as he and Peggy shared a knowing look. Steve groaned. “Oh come on, seriously?” he whined, his brows furrowed in consternation at the two of them.

“Don’t get mad at Peggy, I told her not to tell you. I didn’t want you worryin’, lil’ man,” Peter chuckled, smiling down at him. “You know me, I’m hard to kill; you seem to surround yourself with quite a few of those kinds of people…” he added, looking up at Bucky with a wink. “But if you want, I’ll tell you all about it later.”

Steve huffed, crossing his arms over his chest; he nodded, though, and punched his friend in the shoulder. “Fine. You better.”

Peter nodded, saluting them all. “You got it. Thanks for the beer, Peg!” he exclaimed, dashing from the apartment with a loud bang of the wooden door.

“They get hugs, and I get stolen beer and a brief acknowledgement! Men, I swear!” Peggy sighed, throwing her hands up. “With that taken care of, now I actually have to go to work myself. Help yourself if you two are staying. If not, lock up behind yourselves. I’m off now!”

Steve grinned, waving as Peggy grabbed her purse and left the apartment. When he and Bucky were finally, blissfully alone, he looked up at his boyfriend, his smile melting into confusion. “So… how did you know that was going to work?” he asked, looking on in awe.

Bucky shrugged, glancing down at his boyfriend. He leaned over, pressing a kiss to the furrow between Steve’s eyes and nuzzled his forehead. “I didn’t. I was just employin’ a tactic I used just once before to see if it still worked. It did.”

Steve blinked, looking a little confused. “I don’t get it. What do you mean?”

Bucky just smiled, tugging Steve for the door. “Well, I think makin’ you open up in that Starbucks helped bring the two of us closer together, so I figured why not try it again. Since it was successful for the two of us, I figured makin’ Peter face his uncertainties, instead of runnin’ from them, might benefit him too.”

Steve blinked, freezing in his spot as he watched Bucky vacate the apartment. He found himself completely stunned, staring at the open doorway for a moment as he tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened. When Bucky poked his head back into the apartment again, motioning for Steve to join him, the blond could only follow in silent awe, marveling at the perfection that was Bucky’s mindset. He really was the romantic if he had gambled on such a longshot and actually made it work out for someone in need. “I’m still trying to make myself believe you’re even human,” Steve said.

Bucky just hummed, threading their hands together before pressing feathery kisses to each thin finger in his own fist. “I ask myself that about you, every day…”

* * *

 

“Stevie! Set the table for me, darling!” Sarah called, her spatula in hand as she pointed the greasy utensil at Bucky from across the room. “Bucky, dear, would you get me the salt from the pantry, please? It looks like my salt shaker is out again.”

“Sure thing, Sarah,” Bucky replied, making his way to the hallway. With salt in hand, he turned back for the kitchen, bumping hips with Steve as he passed the small man setting the table. “Here ya go. What’re you makin’?”

Steve looked up from the table, beaming at Bucky for a moment. “It’s actually burgers, we’re just not putting them on the buns. There’s lettuce in the fridge, and potatoes to go with it.” Steve stood up, grinning at him. “I made the potatoes myself.”

Bucky grinned, waltzing over to Steve’s side. He wrapped his arms around the little blond’s waist and kissed his temple; he let his lips linger on his skin for a moment before he nuzzled his boyfriend’s neck. “Well then I can’t wait to try them out. Is there anythin’ else I can help with?”

“Not at all, you two just sit down and get settled. The burgers are just about done now!” Sarah said, beaming over her shoulder at the two of them.

Steve slid into a chair next to Bucky, the two of them seated close to each other as they watched Sarah flip the burgers one last time in the pan. Steve nuzzled into Bucky’s broad side and happily soaked up his warmth; that is, until he felt a wayward finger poking him in the ribs. When he squirmed in his spot to escape the coming attack, he felt Bucky’s grip tighten around him and his hand begin to rake over his ribs to tickle him mercilessly. Steve squealed a laugh and wiggled away from Bucky’s side as he heaved for breath.  “Stop! Oh God, mercy! Stop!” he laughed, swatting at Bucky’s hands as the brunet assaulted his ticklish ribs right there at the dining table.

“That’s enough, you two!” Sarah chided, shaking her head at them as she set the platter of burgers on the kitchen table. With her hands free, she grabbed the potatoes from the oven, and the leafy salad from the fridge, and placed the items on the table. “I made sure not to put any dressing on the salad, Bucky. If you want, we do have a vinegar dressing that’s pretty good and not slimy at all,” she added, shooting the vet a teasing wink.

Bucky smiled, composing himself from his tickling to smile at her. “Thanks, Sarah.”

After a quick prayer of thanks, the three of them went about filling their plates with food, dishing up scoops of potato and salad to go with the burgers. But just as they began to tuck into their food, Sarah’s phone rang in the other room; she frowned. “What on Earth? No one ever calls my cell at this hour.” she muttered, rising from her seat and leaving the room to grab her phone from her purse.

Bucky looked up, a little confused. His fork hovered halfway to his mouth as he stared at Steve for a moment. “What’s up?” he asked, gesturing to the other room with a jerk of his head.

Steve frowned, shaking his head. “Mom’s a nurse, so sometimes the hospital calls her in if they need help. Though it’d be weird for her supervisor to call her in at this time. Must be serious if they’re pagin’ her now.”

“Ah,” Bucky replied, taking a bite of the burger. “Do you think we should wrap her plate up for her?”

“Nah, let’s wait. They could just be calling her to tell her something.”

The two of them resumed eating, straining to hear Sarah’s voice from the other room. After a few moments, she returned with a relieved smile on her lips. “It wasn’t work. Mrs. McCleary from next door is having trouble with her sewing machine again. 90 years old and still she makes a dozen dresses a week!” Sarah laughed, crossing the room for the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, boys. Go ahead and eat while it’s hot!”

“Okay, mom!” Steve replied, turning his attention back to his plate as she left the apartment. The two of them chewed quietly, shooting each other glances before Steve spoke up. “I’m still thinkin’ about what Nat said on the phone earlier…” he muttered, swallowing his current mouthful. “I can’t believe Peter didn’t tell me about the pirates thing. I’m actually really mad at him about that. That’s… that’s something huge he should’a thought to tell me when he got back. It’s like.. he didn’t trust me enough to admit somethin’ like that…”

Bucky smiled and gave his boyfriend’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I get that you’re ticked, but I also understand why he didn’t wanna tell you. He worries a lot about you, Stevie. You’re like a little brother to him, and he knew that you’d be real upset if you found out about it. He’s home and alive, and that’s all that matters.” Bucky removed his hand from Steve’s shoulder, picking his fork back up and taking a bite of salad. “Though it makes a helluva a lot more sense, now, what he meant when he spoke to me at the party…”

Steve shot Bucky a side-look, narrowing his eyes at him. “What’d he say?” Steve’s voice was colored in suspicion now. What else about Peter did he fail to mention to him? And why would he choose Bucky to tell, over his own best friend?

Bucky shook his head, winking at him. “Military stuff, Stevie. That’s all. Nothin’ to get worked up over.”

Steve sighed; he really wanted to press the matter and worm more out of his boyfriend, but it was clear that Bucky wasn’t going to elaborate further. Instead, Steve decided to change course, moving onto his next concern. “So, Bucky. About earlier today… did you seriously mean what you said about Peter? About… me?” he asked, resting his elbow on the table. “I mean about the uncertainty thing?”

Bucky laughed, taking a sip of water before turning his attention back to Steve. “Yeah. I could’ve gone about that whole thing with Natasha differently. It really wasn’t fair of me to blast Peter on high in front of his two best friends like that, but I wanted to show him that his self-consciousness was completely unfounded; plus I wanted to show ya that you’re not the only person in the world that has confidence issues.” He set his fork down on the plate and smiled at Steve.

“You went on, in the beginnin’, about how Peter’s so perfect. Peter is pretty awesome, funny, n’ cool. I think it’s awesome as hell that Peter owns his own fishing boat and he does what he does for a living, because he loves it. But one bad date, and he started hatin’ himself because he ain’t the stereotypical American with a house, a really nice car, and a normal job. And that whole thing ‘bout how Nat was outta his league? That’s crap.” Bucky paused, clearing his throat for a moment before he shifted in his chair. His smile faded from his lips as he grimaced down at his plate for a moment, apparently lost in thought. “There aren’t leagues in the world; just mindsets of self-worth. There’re people who don’t put a dime’s worth of effort into the world and they think they’re hot shit. Then there’s people like us that pay in sweat, blood, n’ tears every day, and we’re automatically considered lower class because we weren’t born with a silver spoon shoved in our mouths. It’s all a mindset and it’s absolute bullshit. Like who you like, do what you wanna do, and live life to the fullest. We’re all on the same spinning rock in the galaxy, anyway,” he finished, picking up his glass of water and taking another sip to clear his throat.

Steve listened, staring down at his plate for a long moment. He took Bucky’s words into consideration and shrugged a shoulder in understanding. “Yeah I guess you’re right. Peter was just like me in high school; he wasn’t confident or popular… he was the chubby friend and I was the skinny twig. He left for the NAVY and came back the way he is now, all muscles and swagger. I guess I sorta took for granted his change in attitude, and forgot that deep down he was more like me than I remembered. Guess that explains why he still came back to being my best friend in the world, instead of dumping me for his NAVY buddies.” He smiled, plucking his fork up and taking another bite of burger. “So… thanks for showing me that, Bucky. I really appreciate it,” he added, glancing up to smile brightly at his boyfriend.

Only, when he looked up at Bucky, his eyes landed on a large red splotch that colored the side of Bucky’s neck. Steve stared in shock at his boyfriend, watching in confusion as red patches of skin began to erupt over his face and lips; Bucky was shifting very awkwardly in his seat, wheezing desperately for breath and clutching his stomach in a vice-like grip. “Babe?!” Steve exclaimed, turning to face Bucky head-on; he found himself horrified as he watched Bucky’s complexion fade from its usual olive hue to a sickly white beneath the red splotches on his skin, and a sheen of sweat dotted his forehead to soak into his hair. “Babe, what the..!”

“... Stevie… what the hell was in the food?” Bucky wheezed, inhaling sharply against swollen airways. He coughed into his fist and the cough morphed into an audible gag; his fist clenched in front of his mouth for a moment before Bucky bolted from the table and straight for the bathroom.

Steve sat in his chair, stunned for a moment; he could hear Bucky loudly retching into the toilet, left completely alone in the bathroom to suffer. And here he was, sitting like an idiot at the table, not helping him! “BUCKY!” Steve shouted, running for the bathroom. He skidded to a halt outside the door, staring at the quivering form of Bucky kneeling on the floor, vomiting violently into the toilet. His hair was sticking to his forehead in sweat, and the red splotches had only grown more vivid and angry against his pale skin. “Bucky! Bucky what… what do I..!” Steve exclaimed. He could feel his own chest constricting at the sight of his boyfriend so viciously sick on the bathroom floor; with no idea how to help him, panic set into Steve’s bones with a vengeance, making his lungs quiver in his chest and his breath catch. He could feel an asthma attack taking hold of him as he wheezed heavily, clutching the doorframe of the bathroom. Dammit, his inhaler was in the other room; but like hell was he going to leave Bucky alone, especially if he was this sick. What if he passed out? Choked on his own vomit? Was Bucky gonna die? Steve had only heard horror stories of his mom dealing with anaphylaxis patients. What if that’s what was happening to Bucky?

On the bathroom floor, Bucky found a moment between heaves to look up at Steve; Jesus, Steve felt his heart leap into his throat at the sight of Bucky. He was as pale as a ghost save for the hives covering his skin, his eyes were bloodshot, and the red freckles of broken blood vessels from the force of his vomiting had formed on his pale cheeks just below his eyes. “Go… get.. your inhaler…” Bucky choked out, pointing at the living room; of course, the force of speaking had clearly brought on another round of sickness, leaving Bucky to bury his face in the toilet once again.

Steve whimpered, his chest constricting further still; he didn’t want to leave Bucky’s side, but he’d be useless to him if he, too, passed out on the floor from lack of oxygen. So with that thought, Steve stumbled into the living room, snatching the inhaler from the sofa cushion and taking a few, heavy pulls from it. As he felt the medicine settling into his lungs and relaxing them, he looked back to the bathroom; his heart hammered wildly in his chest as he watched Bucky kneeling miserably on the bathroom floor. He’d never seen anything like this before, and he truly feared that Bucky was going to die like that. To hell with it.

Steve bolted from the apartment and ran to Mrs. McCleary’s, banging on the ancient wooden door. “MOM! MOM GET OUT HERE, BUCKY’S REALLY SICK!!! WE NEED TO TAKE HIM TO THE HOSPITAL!”

A few moments later, Sarah came to the apartment door, swinging it open wildly as she stared down at her son for a moment. “What’s with the screaming!? Where’s Bucky?” Sarah demanded, her voice hedged with deep concern.

“He’s in the bathroom, throwing up. He can’t breathe, and he’s got this… these red spots growing on his skin. I dunno what it is! Ma, we gotta take him now!” Steve babbled out, pointing at their apartment as he grabbed his mother’s hand. “Come on!”

Sarah balked, staring down at her son for a moment in growing recognition before she looked over her shoulder. “Mrs. McCleary, I need to go! I’ll fix your sewing machine tomorrow!” Sarah called, following after her son for their apartment.

Steve pulled her along, his ears perking up at the sounds of Bucky’s misery. His eyes prickled with tears as he heard his boyfriend so sick in the bathroom; Jesus, and he’d left him alone. Steve inhaled a shaky breath, rushing for the bathroom where he found Bucky leaning exhausted against the wall. “Oh Bucky!” he cried, dropping down next to him. He reached out, touching his boyfriend’s forehead to feel for a fever. He was a little warm, but mostly a cold sweat had adorned his forehead, leaving Bucky shivering on the bathroom floor. “Bucky, I’m so sorry!” Steve cried, his tears running down his cheeks as his breath hiccuped in his chest.

“Stevie, honey.” Sarah muttered; she pressed her hand to her son’s shoulder and tugged him back. “I need you to move. Let me get in there and take a look at him, alright?”

Steve nodded, sniffling as he scooted back against the bathtub to watch. His eyes landed on his boyfriend, and he felt a roll of sympathetic nausea forming in the pit of his stomach at the sight of him. Bucky looked horrible; his skin had gone sallow, and the red splotches were massive against his skin. As he watched the two of them, Steve saw Bucky tense up before turning in time to heave another wave of sick into the toilet with an exhausted retch. “Jesus, Mom, what the hell is wrong with him?” Steve asked, his voice timid.

Sarah, ever the professional, sat next to Bucky and watched him as she held the strands of his hair from his sweaty forehead, more for comfort than anything. “Bucky… listen to me. When you can, tell me. Do you have an egg allergy?” she asked. Her tone held no humor as she stared down at the sick young man next to her.

Bucky, for his part, tried valiantly to speak; his voice only caught in a wheeze and he coughed for a full breath of air. Deciding that speaking full sentences was out of the question, Bucky simply nodded up at her, giving her a tired look as he pressed his cheek to the toilet seat for support. “Bad one…” he managed to croak out; his voice was raw from the trauma it had been put through, and his limbs were shaking steadily beneath him.

Sarah groaned, rubbing her hand over her eyes as she got to her feet. “Bucky, I put eggs in our hamburger meat…” she sighed and dashed from the room for the medicine closet across the hall. After a few minutes of rummaging, she returned to the room, holding a first aid kit in her hands. “Steve, come here. Roll up his sleeve for me, while I get him a shot ready.”

Bucky twitched, looking up at Sarah with wide eyes. “I can’t.. take Vistacot, either,” he gasped, shaking his head at her as he tried to shy away from the two of them.

Sarah smiled, giving him a sympathetic look. “It’s not Vistacot, honey. It’s a low dose of Phenergan. It’ll settle your stomach down and take care of that reaction you’re having; at least until we can get you to the hospital.”

 

This seemed to settle Bucky down a bit, though he did shake his head at her. “I don’t need to go to the hospital… Just need to get it out of my system,” he whispered, pressing his cheek to the toilet seat again. He shot Steve a weak smile, shaking his head before closing his eyes in exhaustion.

Steve watched with a saddened expression as he rolled his sleeve up, giving his mother a nod when he’d finished. Steve watched as his mother filled the syringe with the correct dosage, testing the needle for a clean flow, and then carefully slipped the needle into Bucky’s shoulder muscle to administer the medicine. Steve felt his stomach twist at the sight of the needle sliding effortlessly into Bucky’s skin and he looked away, staring at the far wall for a moment to gather his wits. What he wouldn’t give to have those memories go away, right now…

“Babe, you okay?” Bucky asked, catching his attention. Steve looked down at his boyfriend, feeling his heart hammer in his chest; bless his heart, even sick as a dog and Bucky was only concerned for Steve’s sake. “S’okay, babe. I’ve had this happen before. M’sorry I scared ya…”

Steve blinked, his concerned features shifting into an incredulous expression before he reared back. “You’re asking me if I’m okay?! Are you not entirely aware of where exactly you’re sitting right now?!” Steve blurted, looking up at his mother for an explanation to this madness as she tended to Bucky. Leave it to Bucky to make this all about Steve. Throwing up until blood vessels were rupturing in his damn face, and Bucky Barnes was more concerned about Steve Rogers’ wellbeing.

Bucky laughed, though the sound was weak and hoarse at best. “Hey, punk, M’metal enough to puke all over myself and still worry about ya.” He paused, closing his eyes for a moment before he opened them again to look up at Steve. “Seriously. This happened to me over in Iraq, babe. Only there, all I had was a bucket n’ a cot in the med bay. I had’ta wait for the throwin’ up to stop ‘fore I could even take a Benadryl. This’ll be easy. Hell, I’m already feelin’ better.”

Steve listened, feeling his eyes pricking with tears again. Dammit… Bucky was something else, for sure. Brave enough, even in the face of a killer dinner and a toilet, to still try and make Steve smile. Steve honestly didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such an amazing man in his life…

This amazing man he’d incapacitated with a goddamn burger.

Sarah remained quiet the entire time; her lips turned up into a wry smile as she listened to her son and his boyfriend talking about the propriety of bedside manners. She dabbed the tiny drop of blood away from Bucky’s shoulder with a cotton ball and applied a little bandaid over the prick hole before she ran her fingers over the sick man’s forehead. “Your temperature is regulating. Looks like you’re finally on the mend, Bucky.” Sarah said, packing her first aid kit up and placing her cool palm against the small of his back. “Now you’re going to get drowsy from this medicine, so let’s get you into the bedroom to lie down, alright? Did you bring any clothes with you?”

Steve spoke up, surreptitiously wiping his hand under his eyes to dry any tears that had run down his cheeks. “He left some clothes here the last time he was over. I dunno if he’s got pajamas, but I don’t think he’d want any waistbands pinching around his stomach right now…”

Bucky nodded in agreement; he sat up slowly, supporting himself on the toilet before giving the two of them a weak nod. “Yeah... I am starting to feel a little better. Shit… I think I need to keep some of these drugs on hand all the time… just in case,” he murmured, his features relaxing in relief. Sure enough, the intensity of the red splotches on his cheeks and neck lessened gradually and his breathing regulated as he sat there, steadying himself on the porcelain for a moment. He allowed Steve and Sarah to help him to his feet without complaint or protest; with their help, he rinsed his mouth out from the rancid taste of bile, and cleaned the residue of sweat from his face with a cool, wet rag.

With great care, Sarah and Steve helped Bucky hobble to the bedroom, setting him down on the bed. Sarah dropped down to untie Bucky’s shoes, while Steve helped his boyfriend out of his shirt and unfasten the buckle on his pants. It was slow process, but soon the two had Bucky divested of his clothing and down to his boxer briefs; they helped him lie down in Steve’s bed, situating the brunet comfortably in the warm blankets around him. As Steve finished tucking Bucky into the blankets, Sarah slipped from the room and grabbed a small cannister from the bathroom, bringing it back to his side.

“Here, just in case you get sick again in the middle of the night,” she said, smiling as she settled the cannister down next to the bed. “I’ll stay up for the night to make sure you don’t take a turn for the worse, but I think you’ll be okay from here on out.” Bending, Sarah pressed a kiss first to Steve’s forehead, then one to Bucky’s. “Get some sleep, Bucky. Feel better.” With that, she slipped quietly from the room, allowing the two of them the privacy they both needed after such a terrifying experience.

Steve sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at his boyfriend as he gently ran his fingers up and down the brunet’s arm in soothing strokes. “How’re you feelin’ now?” he asked, his tone hopeful for a positive answer. Bucky may have looked to be on the mend finally, but that didn’t mean he actually felt better just yet.

Bucky shrugged, looking down at the hand touching his arm. He reached up with his free hand and wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrist; he brought the blond’s hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his palm.  It wasn’t much, but that small action told Steve what he needed to know. Bucky was almost back to his old self. “I’m feelin’ much better now, thank you.”

Steve nodded, looking highly relieved by that. “Want me to put a movie on on the TV for you? Just for some background noise?” When Bucky nodded, Steve got up from the bed and grabbed a DVD from the shelf. It was a copy of Saving Grace, and he smiled, slipping the disc into the tray of his television. The disc menu popped up and Steve pressed play, glancing over his shoulder at his boyfriend. “This is a really good movie, too. It’s about a woman who starts growing pot to pay for her dead husband’s debts.” Steve chuckled, slipping on silent feet over to the bed and smiled down at Bucky. “I’d put on Lord of the Rings, but I don’t think you’d stay awake long past Bilbo’s birthday party.” As the opening credits rolled, Steve slipped from his jeans and t-shirt, leaving him down to his boxers.

Bucky snorted, reaching out from the cocoon of his blankets. He ran his fingers up the outside of Steve’s thigh, eliciting a tiny shiver from the blond; Bucky chuckled. “Yeah you’re right. We need to save Lord of the Rings for when m’feeling better. Duct tape bows and towel capes are required anyway, and we don’t have any of those things right now.”

Seve laughed, remembering back to the airport and their plans discussed, in vivid detail. Of course, Bucky wouldn’t dare forget the important details of Tolkien’s world, even if they had been decided with Steve’s indirect influence. Swatting Bucky’s hand away from his thigh, he crawled into the bed with him and tucked the two of them into the blankets again. He lay closest to the wall this time, allowing Bucky full access to the edge of the bed should he need the bucket; he normally hated being the big spoon, but for this occasion, he’d oblige. The two of them lay quietly together, snuggled in the warmth of quilts and body heat and watched the movie as the unfortunate events on screen played out for them; the low volume rumbled quietly into the room around them, lulling them both into a sense of comfort and familiarity.

Of course true to form, the whole night just wouldn’t stop eating at Steve and his guilt plagued him well into the night. He kept thinking back to the disastrous meal that had caused the whole thing; then the oddness of the circumstances occurred to him. Bucky had never once mentioned he had such a serious allergy to Steve. Why the hell wouldn’t Bucky tell him something as important as “I have an egg allergy”? It just didn’t make sense. Did Bucky not trust Steve with that? Was he embarrassed by it? And if he was embarrassed by it, why? It wasn’t like Steve wasn’t a walking medical archive of childhood diseases and chronic conditions. One dietary allergy was not enough to outdo the entirety of Steve’s medical history.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, sitting up slightly to look down at his boyfriend. “How come you didn’t tell us ‘bout your egg allergy? You’re really lucky mom only puts one egg in her entire batch of hamburger meat. What if you’d accidentally eaten, like, a lot of egg by accident because we didn’t know? You’ve gotta tell us these things! You know all about my stuff… why didn’t you trust me with yours?”

Bucky didn’t answer for a moment. He stared at the screen across from them for a moment, before he inhaled a deep breath. When he’d collected himself, Bucky looked back up at Steve, offering him a shy smile. “Cause of what I said about everyone havin’ flaws in the world. There ain’t anythin’ glamorous about asthma or nothin’ like that, but it’s a hell of a lot more… dignified than someone ralphin’ his guts up every time he touches an egg. I mean it. I was the weird kid that couldn’t have birthday cake in grade school cause of it. And the rashes? Really not attractive.”

Bucky smirked, rolling his eyes a bit as he turned to his back. He wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist and held him close to his side. By now, the drugs had begun to take hold of his senses; his eyes grew bleary in the low light, and his words became muzzy and thick-tongued as he spoke. “‘Sides… I’m workin’ on bringin’ your confidence levels up ta’where they belong. You didn’t need’ta hear ‘bout my dietary nonsense. I jus’ avoid what I know has eggs innit. I’ve done it all my life, babe. I’ll just have’ta ‘member to double check with everyone that ‘cides to serve me a quarter-pounder from now on… justta make sure they don’t get fancy with their recipes...”

Steve listened to him, his frown deepening as he listened to Bucky’s slurred words. He didn’t dare think it, but somewhere deep down inside himself, he realized that maybe Bucky wasn’t as confident as he’d originally thought him to be. Still, he was far more perfect than Steve could ever hope to be, and he just didn’t understand why Bucky would hide something as silly as an allergy from him. Especially if it made him so miserable…

But, Steve didn’t say another word on the matter. As he lay at Bucky’s side, he watched the brunet’s eyes grow heavier and heavier as the drug in his system pulled him into unconsciousness. In the dim lighting of the television, Steve examined Bucky’s face; he was grateful to see that the rash he’d sustained earlier had abated, leaving nothing behind but faint pink marks on his cheeks. The swelling of his lips had also waned finally, and his breathing had broken from the wheezing, gasping rattle that Steve himself was so familiar with. Finally, Steve could relax, knowing that Bucky was finally on his way to a full recovery.

Satisfied for the time being, Steve decided to let the subject go. Instead, he curled up at Bucky’s side, resting his head on his chest as he laced their fingers together. Steve planted a gentle kiss to his boyfriend’s knuckles, one by one, and closed his eyes. He tried very hard to let go of his insecurities at that moment; Bucky needed him to stay strong right now. He’d deal with the aftermath of this revelation later, hopefully when Bucky, himself, was ready to face it with him.

“Good night, Bucky…” Steve whispered. He couldn’t fight it any longer. He bit his lip, feeling the overwhelming urge to speak his mind to Bucky’s sleeping form, stronger than any urge he’d had in a very long time. He was pretty sure his boyfriend was in too deep to hear anything now; still… he had to say it. Steve would admit his feelings to Bucky’s face when the time was right, but for now… he just needed to say it. Muscling up the courage, Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek, lingering for a moment. “I love you…”

He was a coward; he knew that. Unable to say he loved Bucky to his face, Steve Rogers was a damn wimp. Still, it felt good to be able to finally say it to him in some way. A heavy weight lifted from his shoulders, and a little smile lit his features. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you…’; his mind kept playing those words over and over again. He liked the way they sounded. Feeling happier than ever, Steve closed his eyes and pillowed his head on Bucky’s chest, letting his mind linger on his confession until he fell asleep, lulled by the comfort of Bucky’s heartbeat.

**  
‘I love you, Bucky Barnes...’**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The egg in hamburger meat, is actually something my family does. It helps stretch the packaging out to last longer, as egg adds bulk to the meat, which makes it a thicker patty without actually putting more meat in it. It was a good way for Bucky to accidentally eat egg without realizing it. We're all so mean to him D: 
> 
> Also, the allergic reaction is something I've seen in person, and it is a very nasty encounter. I'm not even sure if I got it all down in writing how bad it can be. Also, Phenergan is a miracle drug, lemme tell you. I personally have to take it for my own food intolerances, and it works like a dream, though it does turn you into a mindless, sleepy goon hahaha!!!
> 
> Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!!


	5. L Is For the Way You Look At Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm going to apologize, the formatting is wonky and doing that obnoxious "double skip" where there are two spaces between each paragraph break. I'm sorry, I'd usually fix it, except this is 22k words long and I can't sit there fixing each line. I tried really hard to fix the formatting but nothing was working. Microsoft Word usually never does this to me, so I don't know why it did now!
> 
> But anyway, thank you all for the feedback on our story, we really, really appreciate it! Kudos, comments, bookmarks, it's all amazing!
> 
> This fic has a photoset and it's located here: [Click me!](http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/post/124681158988/ps-i-love-you-explicit-410-chapters-updates/)

When Bucky woke, Steve was curled protectively around him. His little blonde head was pressed against Bucky’s chest and one of his hands was wrapped around Bucky’s wrist. Bucky pressed a soft kiss against Steve’s head. He sat there, staring at Steve’s desk, all cluttered with art supplies and completely disorganized. Honestly, it drove Bucky crazy. He liked things kept neat and tidy, but artists were messy by nature apparently. Bucky found it endearing, at least when it was Steve being the culprit of disorganized chaos.

 

He stretched out his feet, spreading his toes wide as he groaned quietly. Whatever Sarah had given him completely conked him out. He was grateful she was a nurse. He’d have had a much rougher night had she not been around. Still, he felt guilt eat tiny holes into his heart. He should have said something. He should have been more responsible about not only his body, but Steve’s. Steve almost threw himself into an asthma attack because of Bucky. If Bucky had just said something, even casually, Steve would have known about the eggs and he would have asked Sarah to not use them. Bucky hated the idea of shattering Steve’s perception of him. He wanted Steve to think he was perfect, because then it would reflect that Steve was perfect. Because Steve _was_ perfect!

 

Bucky had learned to hide his allergy. He’d pretended it didn’t exist and stated he was the pickiest eater on the planet. He hadn’t even reported it on his military forms (which is super against the law but he’s out and it’s over and he doesn’t want to ever talk about it). But this crossed a line. It was easy to go a bit hungry when out in the field. It was easy to pretend to be vegan while on active duty. It wasn’t easy telling Steve that this image he’d created of Bucky was one, big, giant, fat lie. Then there was the whole PTSD thing…

 

_‘Fuck that. I’m fine.’_

 

Steve stirred, groaning softly as he sucked in a wheezing breath before looking up at Bucky with sleepy eyes. Bucky smiled, quieting his thoughts. He’d stress out about himself later. He loved watching Steve wake up in the morning. He loved looking at those flushed cheeks and that tired smile. He loved the unruly hair and how when Steve stretched, he’d arch his back in the most breathtaking, poised arch Bucky had ever seen.

 

Steve pulled himself up, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s lips, chaste and easy before completing his morning ritual of stretching and hopping from the bed to pee. Steve always peed first thing in the morning. It was so damn adorable that Bucky would find himself giggling like a child from how happy he felt.

 

Christ, did he feel happy here. It felt cold at Brock’s place. Bucky didn’t mind though. Brock was nice enough to feed Bucky and put a roof over his head. He never once asked when Bucky was planning on moving and not once had he ever asked Bucky to pay him anything. Though, he wanted to pay something. He felt terrible about eating Brock’s food, sleeping on his couch and taking up space for absolutely free. Being a jobless hobo was a lot of work and it built up so much guilt, Bucky felt like he was under deep, black water, feeling the weight of the liquid crushing down on his bones and turning him to sand. He needed to find his own place.

 

When Steve came back from the bathroom, he plopped down on the bed, shaking Bucky as the bed springs groaned beneath them. “How’re you feeling?” Steve asked hesitantly. He bit at the corner of his lip. Bucky had to fight the urge to pull Steve’s face to his and just suck against that lip till there was no saliva left in Bucky’s body.

 

“Better,” Bucky stated through a lazy smile. “How’re you?”

 

Steve laughed awkwardly, dipping his chin. “You really scared me.”

 

It felt like an arrow shot through Bucky’s heart. He clenched his chest, feeling his pectoral muscles quake against the strain. “I didn’t mean to.”

 

“I know,” Steve answered simply.

 

Bucky pulled Steve into him, slipping his fingers beneath his nightshirt so he could grab at the tiny hipbones that taunted Bucky daily. “I love these,” Bucky breathed out against Steve’s neck. He curled Steve into him like a doll, pulling him against his chest.

 

Steve laughed in elation. He kicked playfully, getting his body to spring up slightly. He was in that delicate arch that drove Bucky wild. Bucky pushed his face down against Steve’s stomach, blowing a raspberry against Steve’s skin.

 

“Bucky!” Steve cried out through a fit of giggles. “No! Stop!”

 

Bucky didn’t stop. He loved how smooth Steve’s skin was, like warm lavender petals that had been in the lazy afternoon sun. He brushed his nose up the sides of Steve’s torso, pulling bubbling laughter from his lover.

 

Steve squirmed in Bucky’s arms, trying desperately to get away. “Quit! I’m gonna die!”

 

“No you’re not!” Bucky laughed as he grabbed one of Steve’s feet, letting Steve flop onto the bed, belly down, and began tickling at the soft arches of Steve’s feet.

 

Steve howled in laughter, kicking lightly as Bucky swung around to straddle him backwards, relentless in his tickling of Steve’s feet.

 

“You’re feet are so pretty, Stevie!” Bucky laughed out. “I just...I need to tickle them! Forever!”

 

“No!” Steve cried out. He pounded his fists against the bed as he laughed into the mattress.

 

“Steve! Are you-” Sarah had barged into the room, clad in a bathrobe and disheveled, blonde hair. her eyes were wild with panic. “Oh. Oh God...I’m so sorry. I thought…”

 

Bucky scrambled off Steve, diving for the blanket to hide what he could of his mostly naked form.

 

“I thought you two were…” She leaned against the doorframe, grabbing at her brow. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I’m so embarrassed.”

 

“S’okay, Mom,” Steve shrugged.

 

Bucky was extremely happy he hadn’t started peeling clothes off Steve. Embarrassment heated against his cheeks, flushing up against his neck and face. His heart was beating quickly as he came down from the laughter he’d emitted moments ago. This could have been worse. They could have actually been having sex… Well, maybe not. Steve didn’t seem ready for that.

 

“Do you...do you two want breakfast? I can run to the store and get egg-free breakfast. We can get vegan pancakes or something?”

 

“Mom…” Steve warned lightly.

 

“Oh...gosh. I’m- I’m sorry!” She flailed her hands before reaching for the doorknob and closing it loudly.

 

“That was awkward,” Bucky stated through a smirk. “What’d she think we were doing?”

 

Steve pulled his knees up into his chest, looking down at the floor as if he was pulling a sad memory back into view. Bucky’s lips parted silently as he watched Steve’s demeanor completely switch from bright, vivid color to a blue, somber tone.

 

“Stevie?”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve finally answered. “S’nothing.”

 

Except it wasn’t nothing. Sarah had looked terrified for Steve. She’d come in with wild, accusing eyes and Bucky was her prey. This chilled Bucky to the bone, leaving him raw and brittle. They’d gotten good at avoiding conversations. They’d picked up really fast when the other didn’t want a subject pushed, but this… How could Bucky not push? If something had happened, he needed to know. He needed to know what was safe to do with Steve. The last thing he ever, ever wanted to do was hurt Steve.

 

Bucky crawled over to Steve, pulling his little boyfriend into his chest and pressing as many kisses against his head and temples as he could, over and over. He wouldn’t stop. Not until Steve asked him to. Not until his lips fell off.

 

Steve was everything to Bucky now. He was his entire reason for living, for thoughts of the future to letting go of the past. They needed to stop this. They needed to stop hiding things from each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking. Steve knew something was up with Bucky, and Bucky knew more than one thing was up with Steve. It was easy to pretend before that nothing was really wrong, but that plan was slowly looking more and more like a terrible idea.

 

“Bucky,” Steve finally spoke, sounding resigned. “You’re slobbering all over me.”

 

“I can’t help it, Stevie,” Bucky responded, pressing several, loud kisses against Steve’s cheek. “You’re just so beautiful.”

 

Steve let out a disbelieving laugh. “No I’m not.”

 

Bucky whined in the back of his throat. He kissed down Steve’s shoulder and ran his fingers along the boy’s slender arms. “I wish you could see you the way I see you,” he whispered.

 

“Nnn,” Steve responded, but he sounded far away.

 

Bucky needed to do something. He needed to prove to Steve just how flawless he really was. He knew it since the day Steve finally revealed himself to Bucky, but now it wasn’t just an obstacle in their relationship, it was an elephant in the room. Both of them. Neither was perfect, but that’s what was making them perfect for each other. “I wanna take you somewhere this weekend,” Bucky announced.

 

“Where?” Steve asked, looking over his shoulder at Bucky.

 

“A lake? My friend Dugan’s got a place up north. He wouldn’t mind. ‘Sides, I haven’t seen ‘em since we left Iraq.” He nibbled gently against Steve’s shoulder, relishing the way the skin trembled beneath his teeth as he scraped them excruciatingly lightly against the shoulder bone.

 

“Bucky,” Steve sighed, leaning his head back. “That feels good.”

 

“Yeah?” Bucky asked lightly, mouthing over the small bone that jutted from the joint. “I wanna always make you feel good, baby.”

 

Steve seemed to stiffen briefly. He pulled his sleeve back down, blocking Bucky’s ability to continue to nip at the skin. “We should get up.”

 

Bucky watched with confused eyes as Steve made his way out of the room. He turned, looking at Bucky with an expectant gaze.

 

“You coming?”

 

“Yeah, just lemme put on some clothes,” Bucky stated. He hopped up, running over to his pile of cast aside items. He’d need to do laundry at this point, or go to Brock’s and just bring more clothes out here.

 

“Hey...Steve?” Bucky asked softly, pulling on a pair of black sweatpants.

 

“Hm?” he asked from the doorway.

 

“You think...maybe one day…” Bucky felt hot. Waves of nausea cascaded against his body, pulling memories of the night before back against his eyes. He grabbed at the dresser, steadying himself.

 

“Bucky!” Steve gasped, running over and letting Bucky lean against him. “You sure you’re okay?”

 

“...Wanna move in with me?” There. He’d said it. He felt like puking all over again now.

 

Steve’s eyes rounded into bright, shimmering saucers. He sucked in his lips, letting them roll out slowly; thick and red against his pale face. “R-really?”

 

Bucky grabbed at the back of his neck. His toes were tingling. “I mean, we’ve been datin’ a lot longer than a month. S’been like... over a year. If ya ain’t comfortable with it, that’s fine. I was just wonderin’. Cause I’m lookin’ for a new place. I don’t wanna keep Brock feeling like he’s gotta pay for me too.” Bucky’s heart was swelling up into his throat, constricting his breathing. He heaved, big, pronounced breaths, letting his chest rise and fall.

 

Steve pressed a hand against Bucky’s chest, looking at it silently before fixing that blue, bright gaze upon Bucky’s face.

 

“You’ve got the prettiest eyelashes,” Bucky blurted out.

 

“I think we should. We should move in together.”

 

Bucky wasn’t sure he’d heard right. Steve was staring at him expectantly, but Bucky wasn’t entirely sure what to do at this point. His mind had completely sputtered, lingering against the words that lifted from Steve’s mouth to Bucky’s ears. “You wanna move in with me?”

 

Steve rolled his eyes, lightly punching Bucky’s abs. “I said we should!”

 

“I just… I just wanna be sure!” Bucky defended. He wrapped his arms around Steve, picking him up and swinging him around.

 

“Bucky!” Steve cried out happily. “I hate when you pick me up!”

 

“Sh,” Bucky laughed. “You love it.” Bucky listened to Steve’s heart as it beat hastily in that tiny, delicate chest. He let Steve hover in his arms, watching with bemused eyes as Bucky lingered there for just a moment more. Steve was his. They were going to move in together one day. They were going to visit Dugan. Now if only Bucky could bring forth enough strength to sit Steve down and talk to him about everything he’d been hiding, and ask that Steve do the same.

 

* * *

 

“It’s freezing, Bucky,” Steve chattered as he rubbed his hands over his arms in a last ditch effort to keep himself warm. “Remind me again why we’re going to a lake house when it’s freezing?”

It took Bucky a week to arrange a weekend getaway with a few surviving Commandos. Dugan owned the lakehouse, Falsworth had decided he’d make the trip from England, Morita and Jones were on leave, so they planned to make the trip out. At least, those were the names that Steve had heard and tried to remember. It was all very intimidating, knowing that Steve was about to meet a bunch of hardened soldiers that were also part of the ambush that became the reason Bucky was sent home. Steve wondered if they were as nice and lively as Bucky, or if they were more hardened and rougher.

 

Additionally, Bucky had been acting a bit differently as of late. He was overly cautious about asking Steve if it was okay to touch or kiss him and when they slept, Bucky’s fingers would tremble as they pressed into Steve. It terrified Steve. He wasn’t sure if it was normal for a veteran to suddenly be so submissive, especially one as big as Bucky, and he wasn’t sure if this had something to do with the random outbursts Bucky would have, like at Starbucks or the surprise party. Steve had looked up mental health issues that veterans get when he was at school last week. A lot of them suffered from PTSD. Bucky had gone to the VA, but he hadn’t gone back since and even that was to do something with the G.I Bill, or so Steve thought. Bucky didn’t seem to want to talk about it and Steve couldn’t fault him, because there were things he didn’t want to talk about either…

 

“Oh quit your bitching, Stevie!” Bucky teased as he playfully bumped Steve’s shoulder, bringing the smaller man out of his thoughts. “Live a little!” Steve expressed his concerns the entire trip up. Even the taxi driver was sick of hearing Steve talk about hypothermia and drowning. But it was about to be Thanksgiving and Steve didn’t want to have to explain to his mother that Bucky froze to death by accidently falling into a lake and that’s why Bucky  couldn’t eat the turkey she had planned.

 

Together, they walked up the porch of the lake house. It was a small, two-story home with white paint, large windows and an A-frame build. It was charming and quaint. Steve wondered if it looked as cozy on the inside as it did on the outside. He spotted a chimney and a smile floated to his face. He hoped they could roast marshmallows by the fire. He used to love doing that as a kid at his grandpa’s house.

 

“Barnes!” a man with a booming voice shouted as he opened the door and waved exuberantly. His mustache was the most impressive facial hair Steve had ever seen.

 

“Hey, Dugan,” Bucky greeted sheepishly, dropping his duffel bag on the small porch and bringing his friend into a tight bear hug. “Fucking missed you, brother.”

“You too, brother,” Dugan whispered back. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think of ‘em.” His eyes were weepy, Steve noticed. He felt like this was supposed to be private, between just Bucky and this man. Steve felt like he was violating some kind of privacy code to see a veteran cry.

 

Bucky pursed his lips, nodding in agreement. “Me too, Dugan. Me too.” They both shared a moment of silence, their eyes glazing over as they drifted back to a place Steve never could go: war.

 

Steve sneezed. It was an accident! But it shook his whole body and left him feeling light headed. Bucky turned around, his eyes rounding in distress as he grabbed Steve by the elbows to steady him.

 

“Oh, Dugan, this is Steve,” Bucky introduced. “This is Dum Dum Dugan, but we just call him Dugan.”

 

“You’re Steve? You don’t look like the picture.” Dugan announced as he rolled on his feet.

 

“Uh, that’s a long story,” Steve mumbled as he held out his hand, wincing when the man gripped his slender fingers a bit too tightly.

 

“Well whatever, come on in! We’re just waiting on Falsworth.”

 

Steve shivered pleasantly, enjoying the heat that enveloped him as he walked into the house. Everything was one giant, open floor plan, covered with deer antlers and other rustic accents. He could see the kitchen, the small dining area, the living area and the nice tiled entryway where one put shoes. There were stairs that led to the second floor, where Steve assumed the bedrooms were.

 

“Where’s the bathroom?” Steve asked.

 

“Upstairs,” Dugan answered. “Small place, I know, but I usually only come out here to hunt.”

 

“Barnsie?! Is that you, you little wanker!” a British man called from the doorway to the house.

 

Steve and Bucky turned to see a man with outstretched arms. Bucky fell into him, much like a lover would. Steve _really_ didn’t feel he should be seeing that. It was like he was invading a world that he was never supposed to be in. This was Bucky’s life. Not his. These were Bucky’s friends. Steve had no right to be here.

 

“Dude!” Bucky exclaimed. “We just got here too!”

 

“Close the door!” an Asian man yelled from one of the brown, leather couches. “I did not raise you all to live in a barn! And come the fuck over here so I can hug you bitches!”

 

“Morita,” Bucky called out as he hopped from the Englishman’s arms to the Asian man. He fell onto the couch, receiving a clap on the shoulder from a dark-skinned man and the Asian man burped in his face. “Oh my God! It’s like I’m home!” Bucky laughed out.

 

Steve stood there awkwardly, feeling his heart shatter as Bucky spoke of a home that wasn’t with him. He leaned on the door to the outside as he watched these men greet and tease each other. Bucky was greeted instantly by Steve’s friends. He was welcomed in with a party that was specifically made for him. This felt different. These men were cloistered off against Steve. Steve wasn’t a vet, he wasn’t on active duty, he was just an art student. They probably thought he was beneath them.

 

_‘I’m beneath them. I took their Bucky from them and I don’t deserve him…’_

 

“Stevie!” Bucky called as he poked his head up over the couch. “C’mere and meet my guys!”

 

Steve walked slowly into the living room, feeling the heat from the fireplace sooth against his chilled legs.

 

“That shithead’s Morita, this is Jones-”

 

“You can call me Gabe,” Jones said. “We all got used to calling each other by our last names, but, sometimes it’s nice to remember I’ve gotta first one.”

 

_‘Because I’m not worthy of calling you what they call you…’_

 

“This is Falsworth and guys, this is Steve. My boyfriend.”

 

They all eyed him for half a second before Falsworth extended his hand. “Pleasure, Steve. Bucky talked about you constantly.”

 

“You’re the one I thought was handsome,” Steve blurted as he shook the man’s hand. Falsworth’s eyes shimmered with delight as a soft smile played at the corners of his lips.

 

“Ah, yes. I do believe that was me.”

 

“Hey!” Bucky snapped playfully. “Mine.”

 

“He ain’t property, Buck-a-roo!” Dugan countered.

 

Bucky shrugged, his eyes warming as he looked at Steve with a face so full of adoration it made Steve step back into Falsworth.

 

“S-sorry!” Steve gasped. “I didn’t mean to.”

 

“You’re alright, little man,” Falsworth assured, placing a hand over Steve’s shoulder.

 

_‘Peter’s the only one who can call me that…’_

 

Steve missed his friends. He missed his normality and safety. These men were giants and he an ant. His heart beat loudly in his ears as his fingers and toes tingled and he had the strangest urge to just cry. “M’gonna go to the bathroom,” he mumbled as he skittered out of the room. The upstairs had two separate rooms, both with more than one bed in them. In the middle was the modest bathroom, just as rustic and cramped like the rest of the home. It was only a lake house… but Steve felt like he was in a cage.

 

He stood in front of the sink, staring at himself in the mirror as he concentrated on his breathing. He didn’t want to do this in front of these men. He needed to calm down. They were Bucky’s friends and Bucky’s _brothers_. Steve knew how deep the military bonds went. These weren’t just “best friends.” They’d been through hell together. They’d done things that Bucky could never share or tell Steve.

Steve whimpered, allowing tears to slip from his eyes. He wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough! Falsworth was better. He was taller than Bucky and handsome and English. He’d been through war with Bucky and he probably understood all the terrors and reasons for Bucky’s recent strange behavior.

 

He slid back against the wall, crying softly. _‘Why did I come here? This was a mistake, this was a mistake!’_

 

“Hey, Steve?” Bucky called from outside the door. “You okay, baby?”

 

Leave it to Bucky to realize something was wrong. Of course he would. He always did. It didn’t mean he’d pry or ask but he always _knew_ because he was honest to God the _best_ boyfriend in the history of boyfriends and he was wasting his time on Steve! “Fine,” Steve shouted in irritation. “I’ll be down shortly. Just go hang out with your squad, or whatever.”

 

“Or whatever?” Bucky echoed. “Steve…” The doorknob jiggled, but Steve had locked it. “Baby, open up!”

 

“Please Bucky, just go! I’m fine! I just need a minute.”

 

“Do you feel okay?”

 

“Bucky!” Steve yelled. He listened to the resigned sigh and the shuffling of feet as Bucky walked away. Steve was left with nothing but soft silence and occasionally the barks of laughter from below him.

 

“I shouldn’t be here,” he whispered to himself. Steve wrapped his arms around his slender legs, dropping his head against his knees as he cried softly. This life that Bucky had…he’d had it long before Steve ever showed up and he’d have it long after Steve was gone. Bucky would be reminded that. He’d see it in the eyes of Falsworth or the bushy mustache of Dugan’s. He’d realize these men were the kind that he should spend his life with; men who could understand him and actually keep up with him. Steve was just a little artist with barely any money to his name, a too-big nose and lanky limbs. He couldn’t run after Bucky. He couldn’t hold Bucky in his arms at night and keep him warm. He wasn’t big or muscular. These men were better for him, any one of them would do.

 

But not Steve.

 

He’d stayed there, letting his mind go numb as tears quietly dried against his face. He ran his fingers back and forth against the worn mat he sat atop of. It had a picture of a wolf on it. Steve didn’t want to leave this bathroom till it was time to go. He didn’t know how long he’d sat there at this point, listening to the rumbles of laughter and the jokes. He winced each and every time Bucky talked or laughed. He loved that voice. He craved it with every fiber of his being. It completed him, filling him up in all the spaces that God had left empty for another’s soul. He loved Bucky. He loved Bucky Barnes so much. He’d die for him, but he wasn’t worth him. Bucky was at least ten times the man Steve was, if not more. He was kindness, health, radiance and strength where Steve was fear, illness, hatred and weakness.

 

In the midst of his thoughts, Steve heard a knock echo through the thin wood of the door. He looked up, waiting for someone to speak and half hoping that whoever it was, would give up and go away, already.

 

“I gotta piss, man,” one of the Commandos called. Steve didn’t really know their voices yet. Maybe Dugan’s. His was very unique.

 

Steve begrudgingly stood up, swaying as he walked over to the door and opened it to see Morita. The man had a brow cocked at Steve but said nothing when Steve silently brushed by. The blonde walked down the stairs, swaying his arms from side to side as he descended.

 

Bucky’s gaze was on him like a moth to flame. Steve watched that Adam’s apple bob when Bucky swallowed heavily. “You feel better, doll?”

 

Steve’s spine tingled. He’d never been called “doll” before. Most of the time, they just called each other baby, but there was something so endearing about “doll.” Steve wanted Bucky to call him that forever… “M’fine,” he mumbled softly.

 

Bucky outstretched his arms, jerking his head as he motioned for Steve to cross the room and to his arms.

 

Steve fell into those arms, his throat clamping up as his tongue swelled. He wanted to cry again. He just loved this man so much and it had never occurred to him just how wrong it all was for the most obvious of reason. Bucky was ex-military. He deserved someone who really understood him; someone who could really relate to him, a vet or someone on active duty. An art student couldn’t possibly ever come to understand the experience Bucky had over in the Middle East.

 

“You feel better?” Bucky asked, pressing a kiss against Steve’s temple.

 

Steve nodded, though he was lying. He felt worse.

 

“You’re so beautiful, babydoll,” Bucky cooed quietly. “I wanna help you if you don’t feel good, like you helped me.”

 

Steve shook his head. If he opened his mouth, he’d cry. He pushed his face into Bucky’s chest, curling his fingers into Bucky’s shirt and pulling him as close as he possibly could.

 

“He’s like a baby kangaroo,” Gabe joked.

 

“I like when he gets clingy,” Bucky responded as he softly stroked his fingers through Steve’s hair. “Means I’m doin’ somethin’ right.”

 

“So boys,” Dugan began with that rumbling voice. “Who’s ready to put some hair on Steve’s chest?”

 

“What?” Bucky questioned.

 

“Before you got here, we decided we’re gonna go out swimming.”

 

“Oh shit! I didn’t bring any gear!” Bucky responded. Steve loved feeling his chest vibrate when he spoke. He didn’t want to move. He wanted to stay here with his arms and legs wrapped around Bucky and his face pressed into his chest. He didn’t want to go out where it was cold. He was warm and happy, pretending no one was around but his lover. Bucky _was_ his lover, at least for now. Steve had to soak up every moment he got before Bucky would wake up and realize what a mistake it’d all been.

 

“We go’you covered,” Falsworth added.

 

“Up for it? Then we’ll come in and eat steaks!” Dugan gleefully announced as he opened his arms wide for emphasis.

 

Bucky tucked a finger under Steve’s chin, forcing Steve to look up and into those big, blue eyes. “You okay with that?”

“I don’t wanna go outside,” Steve whispered. He felt ashamed. These strong, hardened men all wanted to go and have some fun. Steve just wanted to stay cooped up in the warmth of his temporary cage, clinging to Bucky. “S’cold.”

 

“That’s the point, Stevie!” Dugan laughed. “C’mon! It’ll be fun!”

 

“We don’t have to go out for long,” Bucky pressed. “Just a bit.”

 

Steve nodded, clenching his jaw as he thought how cold that water would be. “I don’t have swim trunks.”

 

“You wear neoprene suits. We got one we think’ll fit you,” Gabe detailed. His smile was warm and he had such a kind face. Steve thought he’d be a good pick for Bucky if Falsworth didn’t work out…

 

“You wanna go swim?” Steve asked Bucky.

 

Bucky quietly laughed, nipping at Steve’s nose. “I wanna do whatever you’re comfortable with, baby.”

 

“I like “doll” better,” Steve shyly responded.

 

“Okay, doll. Whatever makes you comfortable, I’ll be fine with.”

 

Steve knew better. Bucky wanted to go swim despite the cold. He was bubbling energy and play incarnate. “We can go swim.”

 

“Yes!” Bucky cried out, dropping his head back for a moment as a wide smile spread against his lips. He leaned forward, kissing Steve and softly nudging him off his body.

 

Steve recoiled into the couch, watching as Bucky followed Gabe and Dugan upstairs.

 

“You’re gonna freeze your balls off,” Morita said as he sat down on the leather sofa. “But you’re gonna like it.”

 

Steve laughed awkwardly. He wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be reassuring or not. Shortly after Bucky had gone upstairs, he’d come down wearing a navy blue neoprene suit that hugged every muscle and curve of his body. Steve inhaled sharply, feeling his dick twitch as he saw the outline of Bucky’s. They hadn’t gotten intimate since the night Bucky managed to make Steve come just by kissing and some humping. It wasn’t that Steve didn’t want to. He wanted to! Being a virgin made things a bit scary. He knew how to suck a guy off, he knew how to give a handy but sex was such a big step.

 

“Steve! C’mere,” Bucky lightly ordered as he held up a purple suit for Steve. “This should fit.”

 

“And don’t freak out when it’s a little lose over your chest,” Dugan said. “S’my girlfriend’s.”

 

“O-oh…” Steve bit his bottom lip, looking down at the rug. So they thought he was small enough to be a woman. Peggy was bigger than him, sure. He’d climb into her lap like a child would but it never made him feel so inadequate as right now. He looked back up, licking at his lips. _‘Don’t cry, Steve, don’t cry!’_

 

He took the suit, going up into the bathroom to put it on. He stared at himself once more in the mirror, hating that the suit was actually a tad big. It was bulky in the chest but hung off against his hips. He looked awkward.

 

“Fit?” Bucky asked through the door.

 

“It’s big,” Steve responded.

 

“Lemme see.”

 

Bucky opened the door, scanning over Steve with pursed lips. “Ehhh. It’ll work. That’s the most important part.”

 

“I’m smaller than Dugan’s girlfriend…” Steve stated dejectedly.

 

“Hey,” Bucky cooed, pulling Steve into his arms. “Only precious objects come in small sizes, and I think you’re beautiful.” He pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple. “So, so beautiful.”

 

Bucky gave compliments like a car salesmen offered “deals.” Steve knew Bucky was only trying to remind him that he truly believed Steve was beautiful, and maybe he did. But it wasn’t something that Steve believed. He’d take one look in the mirror and analyze his crooked nose, his too-big eyes for his too-small jaw. He’d poke at his ribs and stare at his flat butt. There wasn’t anything to look at. Nothing special. It made having sex that much harder. Steve didn’t want to undress in front of Bucky. He didn’t want to see Bucky, the definition of gorgeous and then look down at his body and see…skin and bones. It wasn’t just disheartening. It was life-shattering. Steve had worked hard to find confidence in his art after years and years of battling anxiety and hatred for anything he produced. If someone came up to him with a perfect form and perfect knowledge of color theory, Steve would probably regress back to who he was in high school when he was drawing cartoons and wondering why everyone else was so much better when he worked just as hard.

 

Any confidence he had now, it’d be destroyed if he slept with Bucky. And it wasn’t that Bucky would even care! He clearly liked Steve’s body. He’d said it before and Steve was sure he’d say it again. But it wasn’t about Bucky. This was about how Steve saw himself. Nothing could change that Steve hated the form he was given.

 

“Steve?” Bucky called from the stairway. “Ya gonna stare at the wall all day or you gonna come?”

Steve nodded, following behind Bucky as they descended the stairs and met up with everyone else. They walked through the backdoor, wearing their river shoes and neoprene suits through the cold. Steve was already shivering.

 

“We can go back inside after one dive, okay?” Bucky asked as he wrapped an arm around Steve’s trembling form. “I haven’t done this in a long time.”

 

Steve attempted a reassuring smile as he leaned into Bucky. “S-sure, Buck. It’s fine.” Bucky kissed him on the cheek.

 

“Ah, I remember my first jump,” Falsworth said as he walked next to Dugan. “It was negative nine degrees and I was freezing my balls off.”

 

“This is America, Falsey, speak American!” Bucky joked.

 

“Oh piss on that. The rest of the world uses Celsius!”

 

“America!” Bucky laughed out.

 

“It was fifteen degrees in American,” Morita stated. “I remember. He smacked his head on some ice. That was awesome.”

 

“That was painful,” Falsworth reminisced. “Please make sure there’s no ice this time.”

 

“S’warmer than back then,” Dugan said as they came up to a small hill that dropped down into the lake. There was a rope hanging off a tree branch.

 

“We’re gonna jump from that?” Steve asked, pointing his nose at the rope.

 

“Yep!” Gabe called out. “It’s kind of a ritual whenever we’re all here.”

 

“There used to be more of us,” Bucky said somberly.

 

“A moment of silence, gents?” Falsworth questioned.

 

Steve watched as the men all bowed their heads and closed their eyes. Steve had never felt more panicked. He didn’t know the ones that had died. He didn’t know their names or their faces. Bucky had _never_ mentioned them. It was like he kept all his wartime memories under lock and key. He wore his vet status on his sleeve with pride but when it came to the actual memories or the actual relationships, Steve had no real idea. He’d written about them during his tour but when he came back, it was like he shut them all in a safe. Steve wondered if it had something to do with the ambush.

 

“Who’s up first?” Dugan asked as he reached for the rope.

 

“Stevie? Sooner we jump, sooner we go back inside?” Bucky offered.

 

“Uh. No. I’ll wait and see a few of you do it.”

 

“Ha!” Bucky snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

 

“I’ll do it,” Morita said as he grabbed the rope from Dugan. “Geronimo!”

 

Steve watched the man drop maybe about fifteen feet into the water. The splash was loud and foamy. Steve watched with worried eyes as the black water sloshed around but no head was popping up. “W-where?”

 

They were all leaning over now, watching the water slowly calm when a head popped up, gasping loudly. “You fuck, you did that on purpose!” Falsworth shouted down.

 

“Did what?” Morita called. “FUCK! IT’S COLD!” He started to swim for the beach.

 

“You stayed under there a long-ass time!” Gabe yelled.

 

“Yeah well, I wanted to freak you all out for a second,” Morita said as he ran from the water, dripping wet and shivering violently. “Fuck, I hate my life.”

 

“Next?” Dugan asked as he held the rope out for someone.

 

“Me!” Gabe said as he grabbed the rope, moving back a bit to get a bit of a running start. “TELL MY MOTHER I LOVE HER!” he yelled as he jumped. Steve watched the man disappear into the black water. He came up almost instantly. Screaming pitchy shouts of discomfort. “Ah! Fuck!”

 

“Alright, next on the chopping block?” Dugan asked, holding the rope out to Falsworth.

 

“We all gotta die somehow,” Falsworth sighed as he took the rope. “I’d make a stupid joke about the Queen, but frankly, fuck you all for thinking I’m a raging stereotype.”

 

“Ah s-s-s-shove it up your ass,” Morita chattered out.

 

“Go man!” Gabe cried. “Fucking freezing!”

 

“We’re gonna die,” Steve stated as he watched Falsworth jump.

 

“It’s fine, dollbaby,” Bucky reassured, kissing his forehead. “We’ve been doing this for years, ever since our first leave.”

Steve had a moment where he allowed himself to feel privileged. They were sharing this tradition with him. Clearly he was important enough to Bucky to be allowed into this circle of brothers-in-arms.

 

“Alright, Buck-a-roo, your turn,” Dugan said as he shoved the rope into Bucky’s hands. Bucky looked down at the rope before looking over at Steve with a devilish smirk.

 

“What? Steve asked hesitantly.

 

“Wanna go together?”

 

“Will we hurt ourselves?” Steve asked, tilting his head to the side as a violent shiver erupted from his lower spine and carried all the way over his shoulders. He could barely feel his feet.

 

“Nah, it’s not that far down,” Bucky replied. “I’ll hold you the entire time.”

 

Steve looked over the edge, then looked to the shivering vets that were sopping wet. This was the worst idea in history of bad ideas, but he found himself walking toward Bucky and letting the larger man wrap his arms around him as they scooted to the edge.

 

“Ready, Steve?”

 

“If I say no, would you listen?”

 

Bucky barked out a laugh. “Not on your life, toots.”

 

“That’s a terribly nickname,” Steve said curtly. “I like doll best.”

 

“Okay, doll, let’s go be idiots.”

 

“I hate you.”

 

“No you don’t.” Before Steve could respond, Bucky had picked him up and together they were flying briefly. Bucky kissed him in midair, slipping his tongue against Steve’s bottom lip, making him feel warm against the bitter wind that was rushing at them.

 

Suddenly, ice and shooting pain surged around Steve. He shrieked, but found that it was only bubbles that rumbled aloud. He was underwater! He couldn’t breathe! He kicked violently, breaking away from Bucky’s body as he reached the surface of the water, gasping and heaving with flailing limbs and frantic eyes.

 

“That w-wasn’t so b-bad, right Stevie?” Bucky asked as he floated atop the water with ease.

 

But Steve was struggling to keep afloat. Ice cold water was surging into his clamping lungs as he wheezed desperately for air. He was having an asthma attack. This was a full-blown asthma attack! He clawed at his throat, hearing himself choke and gasp fruitlessly. He went under the water a few times. His body was heavy and he couldn’t feel his extremities anymore!

 

_‘This is how I’m going to die.’_

 

“Steve!” Bucky cried. “Shit, fuck! Someone help us! Fuck, help us!”

 

Hands grabbed at Steve’s shoulders, pulling him backwards as he continued to gasp. He was dizzy and the world was spinning so, so fast. He wasn’t sure where his body ended and the earth started.

 

“Christ! Steve, Steve, baby!” Bucky was crying. Or were those just water droplets, Steve couldn’t tell. He stared with wide, panicked eyes, gasping like a fish out of water as Bucky hovered above him. Steve still couldn’t tell if Bucky was crying.

 

“What happened?” someone asked frantically.

 

“What can we do?!”

 

“He has asthma! We need his inhaler! Fuck, baby, where’s your inhaler?”

 

But Steve couldn’t respond. His body was convulsing heavily as he scratched and clawed at his throat. He’d rather tear it open right now if it meant getting oxygen down into his lungs. He could practically feel his lungs freezing over from the cold, shriveling up and giving up. He was suffocating. This was what it felt like to die!

 

“Baby!” Bucky screamed. He was crying. The water was warm that dropped from Bucky’s face to Steve’s. “Baby, come on. Breathe with me. Steve, please, please breathe with me.” He took a few deep breaths but this wasn’t a fucking movie! Steve couldn’t just magically start breathing! He was shivering, freezing and his lungs were clamped tighter than a clam’s lips.

 

“I’ve got it!” someone far away yelled. They sounded English? “I’ve got his inhaler!”

 

“Give it, give it, give it!” Bucky frantically demanded. He brought the medication up to Steve’s lips, pumping the meds against Steve’s lips.

 

Steve couldn’t breathe it in, but he sucked back as hard as he possibly could, willing it to reach down into his lungs, praying to God Almighty that it would take hold. He was wheezing like a squealing pig. He’d be embarrassed if his brain had enough power left to think about the situation. Right now, the only thing that mattered was that his vision was blurring, he couldn’t feel anything and he couldn’t breathe.

 

“Fuck, Steve,” Bucky wailed. “Come on, baby, breathe! Please, baby.” He puffed more of the medication into Steve’s mouth. It tasted bitter.

 

At least Steve would die in Bucky’s arms. He’d never have to see the end of their relationship when Bucky would decide Steve wasn’t strong enough for him. He threw himself into an asthma attack all from a bit of cold water…

 

Coughing. Coughing. Steve was coughing! He was coughing! Coughing meant breathing! Steve was breathing! He luched up, grabbing at Bucky’s damp suit, gasping and choking for air as his lungs started to relax. “B-Bucky,” he gasped. “B-bad idea.”

 

Bucky started laughing. He pulled Steve’s face against his own, kissing every molecule of skin he could find. “Jesus fucking Christ, I thought I was losing you, Steve!” He brought Steve’s fingers up to his mouth and kissed each finger, each knuckle, each nail. “I love you, Steve. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

 

Steve was still coughing, but he was sputtering and wheezing for a whole other reason now. Bucky loved him? Bucky loved skinny, sickly, stubborn Steve? His heart couldn’t take much more, but it still found a way to thrum quickly, rushing hot blood to every vein, pulling Steve back from his panic to a serene daze as he groaned, sitting up and pressing a kiss into Bucky’s lips.

 

They were both cold, shivering and crying but the weather didn’t matter anymore. Bucky loved Steve. Steve loved Bucky. “I l-love you too,” Steve whispered through chattering teeth. “I love you s-s-s-so much.”

 

Bucky was crying loud, heartfelt sobs as he wrapped his arms around Steve, burying his face into Steve’s shoulder, clutching so tight it almost hurt. At least Steve was getting feeling back in his body… Despite the pain, it felt so _good_ to be held so tightly. Bucky held him so fiercely it was like he’d fall into the universe if he let go.Steve wrapped a slender arm around Bucky, threading his fingers through his lover’s hair.

 

“I love you, Bucky.”

 

Bucky’s body shook with another sob. “M’so sorry, Stevie. M’so sorry! I should’a known! I shouldn’t of made you do this!”

 

“I’m fine, Bucky,” Steve croaked through a raw, hoarse voice. “I got you.”

 

Bucky pulled back. His eyes were bloodshot and his lips were purpling. “Yeah, you got me, Stevie. M’gonna make you so warm tonight.”

 

Steve laughed lightly, or he thought he did. He couldn’t really hear anything come out of his mouth. He yelped when he felt Bucky pick him up.

“Take the bedroom on the right upstairs. It’s got a heater in there,” Dugan said softly. “I’ll grab some extra blankets for him.”

 

“Thanks,” Bucky replied as he carried Steve back up to the lake house.

 

* * *

 

Steve was wrapped in multiple blankets and comforters. Bucky had scooted the heater right up next to the bed and aimed it directly at Steve. He’d pulled Steve into his arms, sitting beneath him and all the blankets that wrapped Steve like a burrito, softly and silently kissing Steve’s temple every now and then.

 

Steve wasn’t even in this world anymore. He was flying above the cold weather, the gray clouds and the lake out back. He was soaring up to the moon with the goofiest grin on his face. Bucky loved him. Every nerve in his body was radiating with the lingering, sharp tingling sensation of the cold outside but he felt like he was on _fire_. His heart bloomed heat within his chest, making each breath long, steady and calm. His eyes were heavy with the most reassuring sense of security. Bucky loved him. He loved Bucky. All it took was him nearly dying for Bucky to say it… Still, Steve was satisfied. It was the reassurance he needed to get through this weekend. Now, maybe the Commandos weren’t so threatening, because Bucky loved Steve and not any one of them.

 

Steve smiled sluggishly, enjoying the feeling of Bucky’s soft lips against his head. He looked out the corner of his eyes, looking at brown hair, slightly curly from the water and that beautiful, flawless jawline. Steve reached back, caressing the stubble against Bucky’s face, running his thumb over the cleft of his chin. “I like this.”

 

Bucky chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, I don’t like why we’re here though. Shit, Stevie… I should’a known.”

 

“Do you have asthma?”

 

“No?”

 

“Then how could you know?” Steve asked, feeling smug.

 

“Alright, wise guy. Why didn’t you say anything? You’ve got asthma. You knew.”

 

“I didn’t wanna look weak,” Steve said dejectedly, biting his lip. “Seeing you with your ARMY pals just...made me feel so small.”

 

“Stevie,” Bucky breathed out, clutching Steve just a bit tighter. “They could be giants and I’d still only have eyes for you.”

 

“I know. Or I think I know. I don’t know.”

 

Bucky snorted. “So eloquent.”

 

“Shuddup.” Steve stretched, snuggling back into Bucky, tucking his head under Bucky’s chin. “I wish we were next to the fireplace. Be more romantic.”

 

“Hang on,” Bucky said as he wormed out from under Steve. He hopped over to his duffel bag, slipping out his laptop. He got back on the bed, scooting under Steve and spreading his legs so Steve could fold right in. They fit like hands to a glove. Steve hated his size, but he liked when he fit perfectly against Bucky. It was the only reason he had to love his body. It fit with Bucky’s.

 

Bucky opened Youtube, searching for “fireplace” and selected one of the first results. He went to full screen, letting a fake fireplace crackle and pop on occasion on the screen.

 

“We now have a fireplace. Just pretend the heat is coming from it,” Bucky stated with a quick kiss atop Steve’s head.

 

“You’re such a sap,” Steve teased. “I love it.”

 

“I love you,” Bucky lilted automatically. The words trickled off his tongue like morning dew, sliding against blades of grass. So easy and natural it almost made Steve cry.

 

“I love you too,” Steve answered. “A lot.”

 

Bucky snickered. “M’sure. I nearly killed you.”

 

“It was my choice, Bucky,” Steve defended with a whine. “Let it go, okay?”

 

“I can’t. I can’t seem to let much go anymore.”

 

Steve’s heart sputtered in his chest. He could practically feel the barrel of a gun being pressed against his temple at how loaded that statement was. “Then talk to me, Bucky. Don’t make me guess.”

 

“Last week,” Bucky began. “When we were foolin’ around on your bed? Your mom came in and she looked so scared and you looked all scared. What happened?”

 

Steve sighed heavily, adjusting himself so he nestled between Bucky’s pectoral muscles. “I got beat up.”

 

Bucky was looking down at him, sporting a raised brow.

 

“I’m a virgin. I know it’s not the coolest thing to be, but I want my first time to be really special.”

 

Bucky kissed the crown of Steve’s head again, but he kept quiet, running his fingers up and down Steve’s arms soothingly.

 

“I had a boyfriend who didn’t respect that. He wanted to have sex and I didn’t. Instead of him just settling for rejection, he beat me up and left me on the floor for my ma to find later. Went to the hospital. Had a few broken ribs and my lungs got a bit damaged. Nothing too bad. But that’s why she’s scared.”

 

“She doesn’t trust me?” Bucky asked, his voice tight, trepidation on the tip of his tongue.

 

“No, she trusts you. She trusted him too. I think you’re a bit safer cause you’re a vet, but my mom’s super protective of me. It’s why she hasn’t kicked me out of our apartment yet.” Steve tried to laugh, but it died at the back of his throat, sounding like a groan.

 

Bucky took a deep breath through his nose. Steve lifted with his chest as Bucky held his breath before exhaling. “Christ, Stevie.”

 

“I trust you,” Steve said. “I love you. You’re nothing like my ex. So don’t ever think you’re hurting me. I know my limits.”

 

“I kinda knew you were uncomfortable about sex but I didn’t think-” Bucky stopped abruptly, taking in a short breath before changing course. “I don’t care if you’re never ready, doll. M’gonna love you no matter what. We never have to.”

 

Steve giggled, crossing his legs together as he looked over at the computer screen, seeing the ten hour loop of a fire in a hearth. Bucky would do anything for Steve. He’d always find a way. It was evident in the way he’d pulled up the Youtube video, in the way he was just sitting here and talking right now instead of being downstairs with his Commandos. Steve could probably ask Bucky why he’d been acting so strange recently and Bucky would tell him. It wouldn’t be fair to Bucky, but Steve _could_ get him to open up about it. It was startling. Steve never had a boyfriend who was so devoted. He never had someone who took the time to leave countless, random post-it notes around his bedroom, on his toilet or his mirror. He’d never had a boyfriend who cried over him when he had an asthma attack.

 

But now he had Bucky, and he never wanted to lose him. It hurt, made Steve’s bones ache and his heart twist. He belonged to Bucky. Their souls were written atop pieces of paper, sent over countless countries and united, piece by piece. They’d built each other when they were just bodies full of fear and loneliness. Steve’s biggest fear was losing Bucky.

 

So Steve would do anything to keep Bucky- if that meant sex, he’d do it...eventually. He was just so terrified. He didn’t want Bucky to really _know_ how his knees stuck out from his skin. He didn’t want Bucky to really _see_ just how badly his chest caved in compared to Bucky’s as they’d lay, pressed against each other. He didn’t want Bucky to _feel_ how small Steve’s dick was compared to his. Steve hated his body. He hated knowing that his biggest fear was feeling inadequate to _himself_. Bucky wouldn’t care. Bucky would embrace Steve and hold him close as he’d find clever and unique ways to bring Steve to his orgasm. Steve knew Bucky would take care of him. Steve just hated knowing that he’d have to look at his body and then at Bucky’s and just feel so...wrong.

 

“I’m not gonna make you wait forever, Bucky,” Steve whispered, reaching up to caress Bucky’s jaw. “Just a bit longer.”

 

Bucky turned in, kissing the palm of Steve’s hand. “I love you, Stevie.”

 

Steve pulled his arm back, nestling back into the warmth of Bucky’s chest, wrapped up and safe in blankets next to a heater and a fake fire on a laptop screen. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep till he woke to the smell of eggs and bacon in the morning. A simple post it note against his forehead.

 

* * *

 

Bucky was almost finished with his laundry when his phone rang. He sat atop the dryer in Brock’s apartment, swaying his legs as he looked down at an unknown number. Furrowing his brow, he hit the accept and put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

 

 _“Bucky Barnes?”_ a voice asked. It sounded vaguely familiar but Bucky couldn’t be too sure.

 

“Yup, can I help you?”

 

_“Wanna tell me why you ditched out on the sessions?”_

 

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. That’s why the voice sounded familiar. It was Sam. “Because I don’t need them?”

 

 _“Uh-huh,”_ Sam sounded unimpressed. _“Look, lot’s a guys are in the same boat. Just come out to one meeting. You can sit in the back with a hat on.”_

 

“Do you call all your vets or am I just special?” Bucky spat.

 

 _“I call guys who have boyfriends half their size,”_ Sam defended, sounding much more authoritative than before. _“Peter’s my friend. I know Steve Rogers. I know how little that boy is and I know what men like you are capable of.”_

 

“Men like me?” Bucky echoed back, venom against his tongue as he spewed the words forcefully.

 

 _“PTSD isn’t something you should ignore. I’ve done my favor for Peter. The ball’s in your court.”_ There was a click, signaling the line was dead and Bucky was left to his thoughts, sitting atop a dryer that vibrated softly as it spun.

 

“Did your favor?” Bucky asked into the air. “What the fuck, Quill!” His fingers started to tremble as he sat there, dwelling on what had just happened. Sam- went out of his way for Peter. Bucky’s lips twitched as he looked down at the phone. He could call Peter. He could call and yell about how he’d done something _good_ for Peter by calling Nat but Peter had done something completely invasive and rude for Bucky. Was that how he paid back favors?

 

“You know, if you’re trying to take a shit, the bathroom’s that way,” a gruff voice called into the room.

 

Bucky looked up, meeting the big, brown eyes of his temporary roommate. “I’m just pissed, Brock.”

 

“About?”

 

Bucky jumped off the dryer, picking up a clothes hamper and walking over to the ironing board. “Do you have any laundry? I’ll do it for you.”

 

“I don’t give a shit about my laundry. What’s up your ass, kid?”

 

Bucky snorted, rolling his eyes. “Steve’s best friend’s just stickin’ his nose where it doesn’t fuckin’ belong.” He started folding his clothes, his movements jerky and rushed. His blood was hot under his skin as it rushed against his heart. He felt like screaming. Who was Peter to dictate what Bucky should or should not do? Bucky was fine! There was nothing fucking wrong with him!

 

“Does he like Steve the way you like Steve?” Brock asked as he picked up a shirt Bucky had just folded and refolded it, fixing all the awkward angles of the folds.

 

“Thanks,” Bucky whispered, shrugging a solo shoulder. “No. Dude’s completely straight.”

 

“So, I may be a little ignorant, but I’ve never gotten gay and straight best friends. Like, I didn’t know you liked guys before we became friends and after, I didn’t really give a shit, but if I’d known, I don’t know. Maybe I’d have been uncomfortable.”

 

“That’s cause you were a homophobe, Brock,” Bucky teased. “But s’cool. You got over it. And Peter n’ Steve’ve been friends since they were kids. I don’t think either of them knew what they liked back then.” Bucky was calming down. He wasn’t sure if Brock was leading the conversation like this to actually console him or because he just didn’t feel like fixing all of the improper folding Bucky was doing.

 

Brock snorted. “I’ll never get how you like cock over pussy, but it’s whatever, man.” He fixed another of Bucky’s folded shirts. “But if my buddy was dating a guy twice his size, and a vet at that, I’d be a bit worried too. We’ve seen shit, kid. And it ain’t cause yer damaged. You’re not. It’s cause Steve probably doesn’t know how to handle you sometimes. I’ll bet he doesn’t even know why you’re home.”

 

Bucky swallowed a thick, anguished lump down his throat. “No,” he responded carefully. “He doesn’t.”

 

Brock sighed heavily, grabbing some of Bucky’s laundry and folding it before Bucky got a chance to fold it improperly. “And I’ll bet he’s done some shit that’s accidently made you freak out a bit, right?”

 

“I’m fine, Brock,” Bucky hissed, feeling his face heat up.

 

“Yeah man, you _are_ fine. But you don’t gotta prove that to me. You’ve gotta prove that to Steve’s best friend. So be fine.” He plopped the freshly folded clothes back into the hamper for Bucky. “Now go hang out with your boyfriend and remember that Peter’s only doing what he thinks is best for Steve. You’ve gotta do what’s best for _yourself_.” He poked Bucky in the chest lightly.

Bucky raised his hand, touching where Brock’s finger had just been against him, staring as his friend walked out of the laundry room. “You should do those motivational speeches!”

 

“Ah suck on a cock,” Brock grumbled as he closed the door, leaving Bucky alone with a rumbling dryer and a much calmer heart.

 

* * *

 

“Do you wanna go? Peggy said it’s really good!” Steve asked as he lay on his bed, tummy down with his legs swaying lazily in the air. It’d been another week since Sam called, Bucky still hadn’t gone to the VA. With Thanksgiving right around the corner, Bucky didn’t really have time to play the wounded Vet. He needed to start thinking of recipes to make for Sarah’s Thanksgiving Luncheon...and what to get Steve for Christmas.

 

Bucky wanted to reach out and slip his fingers against that skin. He wanted to feel the small, blonde hairs that dotted along those legs; nip at those ankles. Steve looked so pretty as the orange hues of the sunset sprinkled into the room. His cock twitched as lay there, back against the headboard with his legs spread and mouth wide. Steve had no idea how beautiful he was. The most innocent things he did became the most seductive to Bucky. He’d said he’d wait for Steve and he would, but Christ, was that a challenge. Bucky was beating his dick raw with how badly he wanted Steve when he found a moment alone in the bathroom.

 

“Buck?”

 

“Hm?” Bucky asked, finally meeting those blue eyes with his own.

 

“The movie,” Steve stated with an amused grin. “Do you wanna go? On Thanksgiving? Like a holiday date or somethin’?”

 

“That’s fine, doll,” Bucky breathed out. His lips were aching. Watching Steve’s mouth move, watching the way Steve licked at his bottom lip as he waited for Bucky’s response, the way he was still swinging those legs. “Stevie?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Can I kiss your ankles?”

 

Steve furrowed his brow, a look of confusion shadowed over his delicate features. “Can you?”

 

“Shit, Steve,” Bucky drawled, scratching at his neck. He adjusted his hips, feeling his cock throbbing softly. Steve had no idea about the kind of power he wielded over Bucky. He could simply look at Bucky a certain way, and Bucky was running for the bathroom to rub one out. “May I?”

 

Steve looked over his shoulder, eyeing his ankles suspiciously before looking back to Bucky. “They’re just ankles.”

 

Bucky moved, he grabbed at one of Steve’s legs gently, running the pads of his fingers over the blonde’s small calves. “No they’re not,” he breathed, running his nose over the side of Steve’s shin. “They’re storytellers.” He kissed the back of Steve’s leg, running his fingers over Steve’s heel now.

 

“That tickles,” Steve laughed out.

 

Bucky got closer, darting his tongue out softly to lick at the protruded joint. “They tell me where you’ve been,” he breathed. “Where you’re gonna go.”

 

“No they don’t,” Steve defended playfully, but he was indulging Bucky all-the-same.

 

Bucky nipped at the thin flesh atop those defined ankles. His fingers started trembling as he brought them behind the dip of Steve’s knee, rubbing softly at the tender flesh. “You’ve got the prettiest, little legs, doll.” He pressed a kiss against the joint now, soft and chaste. His stomach burned for more. He wanted to ravage Steve’s body, explore the dips and contours; map it out like foreign, uncharted territory. He scooted closer, his chest flesh against Steve’s leg now.

 

“They’re chicken legs,” Steve sulked.

 

Bucky pulled back, his eyes round and misty. “No, baby. They’re dancin’ legs. They’re the kind of legs you show off and command _armies_ with.”

 

Steve snorted. He turned over, tugging his legs under him as he sat crosslegged.

 

Bucky whimpered. “I wasn’t done.”

 

Steve dipped his chin, looking abashed. “M’sorry. It’s just...sometimes it gets to be too much.”

 

Bucky felt a knife dig into his shoulder blades as panic seared into his veins. “W-what does?”

 

“I know you love me, and I love you. Just...sometimes you’re so intimidating.”

 

“What?”

 

Steve sighed, running his hand through his blonde hair. It spiked up in random directions before settling against his head. “I like your compliments, Buck, so don’t think it’s that. Just sometimes, they remind me of what I really am, not how you see me.”

 

“Baby,” Bucky breathed out. Astonished couldn’t properly describe how Bucky was feeling right now. The world was spinning, he could feel its pull, spinning on its axis. The bed suddenly felt more like a lava pit than a mattress. Bucky was trembling. He stared, slack jawed and wide-eyed. “What are you?”

 

“Revolting,” Steve answered all-too-quickly. He flicked his brow up, huffing. “One day you’re gonna realize that.”

 

Bucky’s throat had run dry. He didn’t know what to do. How could he possibly make this relationship work if Steve wasn’t willing to _see_ that it was working. He pulled his legs up, tucking his knees against his chest as he wrapped his arms around them. “I’m not perfect you know,” he mumbled.

 

Steve looked up at him through those silken lashes.

 

“I lied on my enlistment forms. Said I was vegan. I’ve got an egg allergy that could probably kill me. When I was in high school, I tried to have sex with a girl and kept tryin’ to stick it in the wrong hole. I cry impossibly too hard during chick-flicks. Crowds make me nervous. I’ve gotta scrub my face with about seven different kinds of acne wash or I’ll break out like a fuckin’ slice of pizza. I’m sure you’ve felt the zits on my back? Yeah, can’t do anythin’ about them. I’ve tried. My left arm’s bigger than my right if you really look. I pluck my unibrow.”

 

Steve stared for a moment, his lips parting slowly, revealing the softest smile Bucky had ever seen. He wanted to cry. He wanted to barrel into Steve’s chest, wrap his arms around that slender form and hold him so close they’d meld into one.

 

“I’m not perfect,” Bucky finished. “But I think you are.”

 

“I think _you_ are,” Steve echoed.

 

Bucky laughed, letting out some of the pressure that was weighing against his chest. “Isn’t that all that matters? Just what we think?”

 

Steve looked away, chewing on his lip. He sighed through his nose. “Maybe.”

 

Bucky’s body was radiating with the overwhelming desire to just _envelop_ Steve. He whined in the back of his throat, bringing Steve’s attention back to him. “Can I touch you now? M’goin’ crazy, Stevie.”

 

Steve rolled his eyes but he balanced on his knees, sliding over to Bucky and wrapping those little legs around Bucky’s torso, sitting down in his lap. His eyes flashed with slight panic as he’d obviously felt Bucky’s erection.

 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky apologized. “I didn’t mean to get hard.”

 

Steve cupped Bucky’s face, a small crease forming between his brows as he seemed to analyze Bucky in a way the brunette had never been looked at before. “I wanna give myself to you.”

 

Bucky’s heart wasn’t just simply beating anymore. It was flailing, panicking, _screaming_ within his chest. He could feel how fast his blood was moving in his body, making his skin vibrate. “R-really? You don’t hafta.”

 

“Bucky,” Steve answered firmly. “I want to.”

 

“N-now?” Bucky squeaked out. He was trying so hard not to kiss those lips that hovered over his. He jerked his chin, back and forth as he struggled with the maddening desire. But he didn’t have to worry anymore when Steve closed the gap between them, slipping his tongue against Bucky’s lip, a silent request for entrance. Bucky opened his mouth, wrapping his arms around Steve’s slender frame and grabbing at his shoulder blades in a desperate hold. They locked into each other, Bucky pulling at skin and Steve’s fingers tangling into Bucky’s hair. Their noses smashed against each other’s, making it hard to breathe but Bucky would rather suffocate and die than risk breaking this.

 

He felt Steve’s little hips rock against him, caressing over Bucky’s erection. He moaned approvingly into the kiss. They’d done this once, almost two months ago. It’d been the only intimacy Bucky ever had with Steve and it’d been beautiful, but Bucky wanted more. He needed more. Without breaking their forceful kisses, Bucky’s fingers slid down Steve’s chest, feeling the dip of his sternum, the conclave curves of his stomach. He curled his fingers around the hem of Steve’s shirt.

 

“Wait!” Steve protested, pulling back. His lips were shimmering and swollen. Bucky wanted to lick the saliva off them. “Don’t.”

 

“It’s not like I haven’t seen it,” Bucky protested, sounding like a child. “Baby, you’re beautiful to me.”

 

Steve sat back in Bucky’s lap, accidently pressing awkwardly on Bucky’s dick. “Shit!” Bucky hissed out, jerking violently as his erection bent in a way it wasn’t designed to.

 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Steve shouted, instantly jumping off Bucky and scrambling to the corner of the bed. He curled his arms around himself, biting at the corner of his lip.

 

“No, Steve, come back,” Bucky pleaded. “It’s okay.”

 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Steve mumbled dejectedly. His lashes obstructed where his eyes were looking, but Bucky knew what was going on in that mind. Steve was already berating himself, insulting and snarling at himself. Bucky wouldn’t stand for it.

 

“You’re right,” Bucky responded. “You did hurt me, doll.” The look of sheer anguish that plagued at Steve’s face was almost unbearable, but Bucky had a plan. “You gotta be gentle with me, baby. I’m not as strong as you n’ sometimes I need you to take real good care of me, like right now.”

Steve looked up, locking his gaze with Bucky’s, his mouth dropping into a tiny circle. “Bucky…”

 

“C’mere and take care of me, Stevie,” Bucky asked softly, reaching out for Steve. “I don’t feel safe without you.”

 

Steve was back on top of Bucky before he’d even finished blinking. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, burying his face into Bucky’s neck. “I’ll protect you.”

 

Bucky shivered as Steve’s breath ghosted across his skin. He brought his hands to Steve’s shirt again, tugging slightly at the hem. “Is it okay now?”

 

Steve rolled his lips in, looking downcast. “I just know what this’ll do to me.”

 

“Whaddyou mean, doll?”

 

Steve huffed, pressing a resigned kiss to Bucky’s stubbled cheek. “I’ll see me and then I’ll see you.”

 

Bucky cocked a brow. “Huh?”

 

Steve laughed. “You’re dumber than an ox.”

 

“S’why I joined the ARMY,” he preened. But his features fell, darkening in concern as he looked up into Steve’s big, blue eyes. “Why won’t you let me see your beautiful body, Stevie?”

 

Steve was careful this time, he shifted atop Bucky’s erection, slipping under it so he was sitting more on Bucky’s thighs.

 

Bucky traced his tongue along the back of his teeth as he waited for Steve to talk to him.

 

“Because I hate it. I can’t stop hating it, Buck,” he said, voice wavering. His cheeks reddened and his eyes glazed over as tears threatened to fall. “I know you like it. I know you love me. I love hearing you say all those things about me and sometimes it makes me feel really good but…” His voice broke as he choked into a sob. “I wish I had a body like you. I wish I was bigger and people didn’t step on me or discredit me just cause I’m small. I wish women didn’t just laugh and pass me off as a kid. I wish jobs took me seriously when I apply. If I had a body like yours, I’d be taken seriously.”

 

“I take you seriously,” Bucky said, his lips pressing into a thin line. He rubbed up and down Steve’s back with his fingers, tracing the bones that protruded from his rib cage. “Yeah, being small probably sucks, I’m not gonna sit here and pretend it doesn’t cause I see what you go through. I see how you get treated, even by your friends. Sometimes I wanna punch Peter when he calls you “lil man.” I get it’s a term of endearment but I see your shoulders tense up. I see how you get pulled into Peggy’s lap like a damn cat and you’re not. You’re a fuckin’ man, not a damn kid and that’s why I’ve never treated you like one. You’re a fuckin’ adult, Stevie. There were guys your size in the military. Lot’sa people made fun of ‘em, but when it came to collapsing buildings and tight spaces, guess who went in first? Guys like you. Men just as strong and brave as you. They went in first, Stevie! Do you know how many of them _died_ because of that? But they sacrificed themselves so guys like me could finish the fight.”

 

Steve was staring now. Bucky had long since lost his erection. He grabbed Steve’s face, bringing those lips close to his and brushing over them. “It takes more bravery and courage to walk out that door being small than it does looking like me. You’ve no idea how much I respect you for that, baby.”

 

Steve dropped his face into Bucky’s chest, wrapping his arms around Bucky. He was sniffing. Bucky was pretty sure he was actually crying. His shoulders shook slightly and his breathing came in short, frantic bursts.

 

“You okay, doll?” Bucky asked, making sure he wasn’t falling into an asthma attack. Bucky would never forgive himself if that happened.

 

“I love you, Bucky,” Steve said into Bucky’s chest. “I wanna spend the rest of my _fucking_ life with you.”

 

Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve, pulling him up more into his lap. “You will, doll. M’not goin’ anywhere.”

 

Steve pulled up, bracing himself with his hands against Bucky’s chest. “I wanna be naked with you.”

 

Bucky offered a hint of a smile, still silently worried Steve would find a way to hate himself once Bucky’d start peeling clothes off. “ _May_ , I take your shirt off?”

 

Steve snorted. “You’re not as dumb as you look, Barnes.”

 

Bucky pulled up the hem of Steve’s shirt, watching as the silvery moonlight ignited Steve’s skin with a luminescent glow. He gently pulled the shirt over Steve’s head and let it fall silently to the floor. Bucky leaned back, looking at Steve’s small, pink nipples and how the moon cast stark shadows against the dip of Steve’s belly. “God, Steve,” he breathed out. “God knew what He was doing when He made you.”

 

Steve allowed a smile to pull at his lips. He circled his hips once, brushing over Bucky’s dick. “You’re not hard anymore.”

 

“Lemme kiss you and I will be,” Bucky said as he sat up, rocking his hips up into Steve. He flipped them over, earning a frightened yelp from Steve. He balanced himself on his elbows, looking down at his blonde boyfriend. “I wanna kiss you all over.”

 

Steve laughed. “That’s a lot of kisses.”

 

Bucky tugged at Steve’s gym shorts, watching them slip off like butter. Steve’s cock was starting to harden; Bucky could see it forming against the grey of his briefs. “Steve,” Bucky breathed out, running his nose along the dip of Steve’s stomach. “I have to stop myself from crying when I see how pretty you are.”

 

Steve’s breath hitched, but he said nothing. Bucky wasn’t sure if the intensity of his compliments made him uncomfortable, but he trusted Steve would tell him if they became overwhelming.

 

He crawled down the bed, picking up one of Steve’s feet and nibbling at the heel. “So soft, baby,” he cooed. “You’ve got the softest feet.”

 

Steve just watched, his mouth agape and his eyes darkening with desire as his pupils grew wide.

 

Bucky looked back at Steve’s feet, licking along the arch of Steve’s foot. Dancers had these arches. People with grace and poise. Steve had grace and poise. He moved silently as a ghost. Bucky was the loud, bumbly one. “Is this okay?” he asked.

 

“Feet are kinda nasty,” Steve shrugged.

 

“Not yours,” Bucky answered. “They smell fine. All pink and creamy.”

 

“I _did_ take a shower before you came over,” Steve responded meekly. “Go up higher.”

 

Bucky listened, letting Steve’s foot drop onto the bed. He hovered above Steve’s shins, kissing up the line of the bone that lay beneath the skin. He trailed his nose against the leg, feeling the dainty hairs on Steve’s leg tickle against him. “Such sexy legs, doll,” he mused. “You could stand on me and crush my throat and I’d ask you for more.”

 

“I’m not doing that,” Steve answered quickly.

 

Bucky laughed, pressing a kiss atop each of Steve’s knobby knees. “I know. Cause you protect me right? Keep me from gettin hurt?”

 

Steve’s breath caught in the back of his throat. Bucky watched the whites of Steve’s eyes reflect the moon’s luminescence. “Y-yeah, Buck.”

 

Bucky crawled up higher, still hovering over Steve and pressing his head down to kiss against those supple thighs. He nibbled against them, flicking his tongue out to trace along the skin. “Mmm, Stevie,” he purred. “Would you squeeze your thighs around my head though? It wouldn’t hurt me. I wanna feel these gorgeous thighs around me.”

 

Steve’s face was redder than a cherry. He laughed, looking away. “I don’t…”

Bucky laughed, tracing his nose against the inner line of Steve’s thighs, feeling goosebumps rise to the top of the skin. “I bet I can get you squeezin’ around me.” He moved up higher, tracing his nose along Steve’s little erection. Bucky didn’t care how big or small Steve’s dick was, it was _Steve’s_ and it was perfect.

 

“B-Bucky!” Steve gasped, his hands reaching for Bucky’s shoulders and squeezing them.

 

Bucky looked up, watching Steve’s flustered face as he casually mouthed over Steve’s erection through his briefs. “Mmm,” Bucky hummed, pressing his lips flesh against the line of Steve’s cock.

 

“Bucky!” Steve hissed, bucking his hips up and smacking Bucky in the face.

 

Bucky laughed, recoiling as he looked down at his writhing boyfriend. “ _May_ I suck on your pretty cock, dollbaby?”

 

Steve bit his lips, nodding softly. Bucky could see tears silently pooling against the rims of Steve’s eyes.

 

“I love you,” Bucky reassured as he dipped his fingers into Steve’s waistband. A hand reached down, snapping around Bucky’s wrist. Bucky looked up, mildly shocked. He watched Steve breathe heavily, chest heaving up and down. “I’ll stop if you don’t want it.”

 

“N-no,” Steve mumbled. “S’not it. Just please don’t laugh at how easy I come.”

 

Bucky’s mouth dropped open in an amused smile. “Awe, baby!” he exclaimed. “You think I’m only letting you come once?”

 

Steve gulped loudly, earning another laugh from Bucky.

 

Bucky pulled down Steve’s briefs, watching in elation as Steve’s cock sprung from the cotton, flipping up to bounce against his stomach. “ _God_ , baby,” Bucky moaned. “You’re so pretty.”

 

Steve fidgeted under Bucky’s gaze, his brow furrowed and his body tense.

 

“May I touch it?”

 

“I already said yeah,” Steve responded, looking away and crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“Hey,” Bucky cooed. He sat to the side of Steve, reaching up to cup Steve’s face. “I just wanna make sure everything I do is something you’re comfortable with.”

 

Steve offered a shaky smile, nodding tightly.

 

Bucky looked back down, grabbed Steve’s cock in his hand and thumbing over the slit, feeling the leaking precome smear around it.

 

“Ah...ah…” Steve whimpered, arching into Bucky’s touch. “Please don’t judge me for how fast I’ll come.”

 

Bucky snorted. “I won’t, baby. That just makes you prettier. Didn’t even think it was possible.” Bucky traced his fingers along the lines of Steve’s veins in his dick, languid and slow. He looked up occasionally, making sure Steve’s face wasn’t giving off any clues that Steve needed to stop (or asthma...Bucky was constantly worried about throwing him into an attack). “You’ve got such a pretty dick, Stevie. All pink and ready for me.”

 

Steve just whimpered, rolling his hips into the light touches Bucky was offering.

 

Bucky leaned over, wetting his lips with his tongue and brushing them over Steve’s tip.

 

“Bucky!” Steve gasped. “More...please more.”

 

Bucky looked up, a proud smile on his face as he locked his gaze with Steve’s. “I wanna give you everything, Steve.”

 

“Then more…” Steve whimpered, brushing the tip of his dick against Bucky’s jaw. He shivered, dropping his head back and whining throatily.

 

Bucky pressed a shy kiss to Steve’s tip, feeling the warm precome leaking from it like a broken water spicket. He grabbed the base, balancing it up in his hands before placing wet, loud kisses from the tip, along the sides and down to the base. “Do you like your balls licked, Stevie?”

 

Steve had tears silently falling from his eyes as he breathed in sharp, uneven breaths. “I...I don’t know.”

 

“Want me to try?”

 

Steve nodded.

 

Bucky sucked a testicle into his mouth, pressing his tongue flesh against it and slowly licking up.

 

“Ah! Fuck, Bucky...Bucky I like it! I like it!” Steve moaned, tensing those thighs that Bucky desperately wanted around him.

 

Bucky moved, picking up Steve’s legs and wrapping them around him. He smiled smugly, kissing at Steve’s inner thigh before laving his tongue against Steve’s other testicle. Steve’s thighs squeezed around him as the blonde jerked his hips upwards. “Feel good, doll?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve whispered. “More.”

 

Bucky wrapped his lips around the tip of Steve’s cock, swirling his tongue around it experimentally, feeling Steve push off the bed and arch, touch-starved, into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky took more of Steve into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks, careful to not let his teeth hitch against that pretty, little cock. Bucky would kill himself if he ever hurt Steve like that. His heart beat frantically in his ears as he swirled his tongue around Steve’s length, savoring each and every little gasp that came from those red lips of Steve’s.

 

He smiled around Steve’s dick when the other clamped his thighs, still arched off the bed and now pumping into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky let his wet, swollen lips rise and fall against Steve’s dick as Steve moved his hips in a soft rhythm, fucking himself into Bucky’s mouth still.

 

Bucky reached up, cupping Steve’s balls and squeezing them lightly, running his thumb in soft circles, feeling them move and sway within their fleshen confines.

 

He pulled back, balancing Steve’s dick with his tongue at the underside of the tip, looking up at Steve’s flushed face. His mouth was open and eyes shut tight. Bucky whined around Steve’s cock. He didn’t think that man could look any more beautiful, but here he was, glowing from the moonlight, dusting of red against his cheeks and chest. _‘Christ, you’re a full-body blusher...’_

 

He bobbed his head, letting saliva run down his chin as he sucked Steve into the back of his throat, letting the muscles flutter around the intrusion.

 

“B-Bucky! Oh fuck...oh fuck…” Steve cried out, still thrusting into Bucky’s mouth. “Bu-u-cky!”

 

That whine was everything Bucky had ever wanted. The desire, approval, desperation all laced into those tiny vibratos. Bucky pulled his lips back, letting them trace along Steve’s saliva coated dick, earing a deep shudder from his boyfriend. “You’re doing so good, baby,” he cooed. “You’re not comin’ too fast.”

 

Steve laughed. “I’m trying not to.”

 

“Don’t,” Bucky answered. “Let it happen, baby. I don’t care. I wanna drink you all in me.”

 

“Bucky…” Steve gasped, looking right into Bucky’s gaze. “No one’s ever done that before with me.”

 

“I want it, Stevie,” Bucky whined, putting on a bit of a show as he lapped softly, like a kitten at Steve’s tip. “ _God_ , baby, come in my mouth please.”

 

Steve’s head dropped back as he moaned loudly. He squeezed his legs around Bucky’s head more till Bucky could clearly hear his heart pulse in his ears. Bucky licked up from base to tip, swirling his tongue around and around it, mixing saliva and precome against that red, perfect cock. He enveloped Steve into his mouth, sucking him down till the tip hit the back of his throat, making him gag softly.

 

Steve was fisting into the bedsheets, trembling and whining desperately. He continued to thrust into Bucky’s mouth. “Bucky...Bucky…”

 

Bucky was relentless, determined to show Steve he deserved everything. He deserved to feel like his nerves were permanent, electric currents of the warmest of sensations. He deserved to feel spoiled, indulged and _good_. Bucky tickled his tongue quickly at the underside of Steve’s cockhead, squeezing at Steve’s balls again, massaging his fingers against the velvet skin.

 

“Oh...oh...shi-” Steve gasped. “Bucky...Bucky m’gonna...fu-fuck! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh _fuck_!” He moaned loudly, a long, staccato of approval, pushing his head back into the mattress. Hot seed spilled into Bucky’s mouth, bitter and earthen. Bucky pulled back, just sucking against the tip as he focused on letting the come slide down his throat without choking on it (he’d done that once, but he’d prefer not to let Steve knew he used to be terrible at giving head…).

 

“St- stop...stop,” Steve panted out, trying to scoot back from Bucky’s tongue.

 

Bucky dropped Steve’s dick against his tummy, watching it sparkle and shimmer with a thick coat of saliva. “You tasted so good, baby,” Bucky whispered, pressing a kiss next to the base of Steve’s dick. “I never wanted to stop.”

 

“Mmmm,” Steve hummed softly. “Come up here and kiss me.”

 

Bucky wiggled out of Steve’s legs, pressing a kiss to each one before slipping up Steve’s body, balancing on his elbows to support his weight. He pressed his head down, catching Steve’s lips in his, tracing his tongue along the line of Steve’s. “I love you,” he whispered against Steve’s mouth.

 

Steve giggled, offering a final, chaste kiss. “I love you too.”

 

“Wanna stop? Or keep going?”

 

“Keep going,” he answered innocently.

 

Bucky growled, sitting back and throwing his shirt off. He stood up, sliding out of his sweats and briefs, letting his erection flip up against his stomach, bobbing softly as he moved back to the bed.

 

“I wanna touch it,” Steve said softly.

 

Bucky laughed, leaning back against the headboard and motioning for Steve to come sit next to him. “Mkay, but don’t let me come. This isn’t about me.”

 

“Why not?” Steve asked.

 

“Cause its’ about your first time. I’ve already had that. I want yours special.”

 

Steve smiled softly, his eyes glazing over with fresh tears. He reached down, wrapping cold, small fingers around Bucky’s throbbing cock.

 

Bucky hissed at the chilly temperature of Steve’s fingers but he relaxed into them, letting Steve slip his fingers up and down his length. “Mmm,” he hummed. “That’s nice, baby.”

 

“Do you want me to suck you off too?”

 

“No,” Bucky replied. “I wanna pay more attention to you.”  


Steve laughed, rolling his eyes. He pressed a kiss against Bucky’s lips, laving his tongue into Bucky’s mouth as he flicked his wrist, thumbing over Bucky’s slit.

 

“F-fuck, Steve!” Bucky groaned, rolling his hips into Steve’s hands. “God, you’re so good baby. Got such pretty hands.” He grabbed at Steve’s other hand, pulling two fingers into his mouth and sucking on them lightly. He listened to Steve’s breath hitch.

 

Steve’s hand paused over Bucky’s dick for a moment, but Bucky softly nibbled at Steve’s fingertips, smirking around them. Steve went back to circling his hand up and down Bucky’s cock.

 

“Ahh, fuck, Steve,” Bucky moaned as he dropped his head back, releasing Steve’s fingers. “Fuck you’re so perfect.”

 

Steve laughed, scooting closer. “I like doing this.”

 

“Nnn,” Bucky agreed, his mind hazing over as pleasure pulsed through this body, like a heartbeat. “Want you to...wanna lick your pretty ass, baby.”

 

Steve’s fingers stopped moving. “What?”

 

Bucky opened his eyes. “Rimming?”

 

Steve recoiled, letting go of Bucky’s cock. He circled his fingers around each other, pressing them into his lap. “Never done it.”

 

“Do you want to? Makes opening your hole easier.”

 

Steve squirmed, Bucky watched as the shadows moved back and forth against his body. “Your tongue in my ass?”

 

Bucky laughed loudly. “You took a shower right?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Then it’ll taste just like skin.”

 

“I didn’t exactly sit there cleaning it!” Steve whined.

 

“Do you want me to clean it right now?” Bucky asked, cocking his head to the side. “I’d really love to.”

 

“Bucky…”

 

Steve was recoiling. Bucky could see it in the way he’d already curled his legs underneath him and had his hands knotted against his lap. He could hear it in the resignation of his voice. Bucky’s heart squeezed. He hated seeing Steve so unsure. It wasn’t like rimming was necessary, but Bucky was pretty sure it had nothing to do with that and everything to do with how insecure Steve was. Bucky would be the first to admit an asshole was probably the most intimate spot on a guy. It took a lot of trust and security to expose such a thing to another person.

 

Bucky reached down, grabbing Steve’s hand, pulling it from his other. He brought Steve’s hand up to his lips, placing light kisses against the back of it. “You’ve got the prettiest body I’ve ever seen Steve. I wanna take care of it till my lungs give out and my heart can’t beat anymore.”

 

Steve’s face reddened. He shrugged, sighing in acceptance. “Okay.”

 

“Yeah?” Bucky laughed. “Really?”

 

“Don’t make a big deal out of it!” Steve protested. “S’weird.”

 

Bucky pushed his lips against Steve’s a bit too roughly. Steve yelped into his mouth but their tongues still found each other. Bucky ran his fingers through Steve’s hair, adoring how soft the strands were. “You make me so happy, dollbaby.”

 

“You’re overwhelming me,” Steve stated.

 

Bucky sighed, hopping off the bed and reaching his hand out to Steve. “C’mon. We gotta sneak naked into the bathroom.” He’d back off the compliments. Steve did exactly what he’d wanted. He’d told him when they started to get to be too much. It flooded Bucky’s heart with reassurance. Steve trusted Bucky enough to feel comfortable with letting him know his limits. He wasn’t just going along with this for Bucky’s sake.

 

They opened the door, looking out into the dark room, laughing awkwardly at each other as they tiptoed over to the bathroom. Bucky thought about jumping Steve’s body and forcing them to tumble over the couch but he didn’t want to accidently wake Sarah. That was the last thing she needed to see…

 

Once in the bathroom, Steve reached down and turned the water on, holding his hand under it till it was a temperature that he liked. Bucky stroked at his cock silently, watching Steve bend. The bones that poked out of his spine were like little stars against a darkening night sky. The moon didn’t shine as bright into the bathroom because the window was smaller, but Bucky saw enough to make his blood run hot.

 

“Let the tub fill up, baby,” Bucky whispered. “We can get in together.”

 

Steve nodded, hitting the lever that locked the plug in place. He turned around, looking down at Bucky’s body. Bucky could see the look of inferiority glaze against those eyes.

 

“Hey,” Bucky called. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ll get all self conscious and think you don’t like me.”

 

“What?” Steve exclaimed softly. “That’s not what I was doing.”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Oh I know what you were doing. Now please come here and push your body against mine. M’cold and I need you around me.”

 

Steve rolled his eyes but he came over all the same. He wrapped his slender arms around Bucky’s neck, standing on his tiptoes to reach Bucky’s lips. Bucky pulled him up, wrapping his little legs around his torso. Their cocks glazed against each other, causing Bucky to hiss and Steve to whine softly into his mouth. Bucky couldn’t get enough of that whine. It was like water in a desert and Bucky would do anything to hear it again and again.

 

He rolled his tongue against Steve’s, pressing his chest up against his lover’s, rubbing his nipples against soft skin. Steve gasped into the kiss, rocking his hips and pushing his dick along Bucky’s abdomen.

 

“Bucky,” Steve called desperately. “I love you too much.”

 

Bucky laughed softly, pressing a final kiss atop Steve’s lips before kissing both his cheekbones and then the middle of his brow. “Not as much as I love you.”

 

The tub was almost full. Bucky set Steve down, bending over and flicking the faucet off. Steve smacked Bucky’s ass. “Fuck!” He turned on Steve, his mouth dropped open in an astonished smile. “You little shit!”

 

“I love you?”

 

“Get in the tub, you goof.”

 

Steve skipped over to the tub, easing himself into it and scooting down so there was room for Bucky.

 

“Uhh,” Bucky drawled. “Hold on.” Bucky opened the bathroom closet, peering into the darkness at the random bottles of shampoo, towels and first aid items. “There’d be no reason why vaseline or anything like that would be in here would there?”

 

Steve giggled softly, leaning back to submerge his shoulders in the water. “My bedroom. Got a bottle of lube.”

 

“Steve Rogers,” Bucky exclaimed, clicking his tongue. “Why on earth would a good, little Catholic boy like you have a bottle of lube in his bedroom?”

 

Steve submerged his lips, blowing bubbles into the water. It sounded like he was laughing. “Cause my boyfriend’s really hot.”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes, grinning in amusement at Steve. He exited the room, quietly going back into Steve’s bedroom and rummaging through the nightstand. He found the lube and walked over to his jeans, pulling out his wallet and grabbing a condom. He wasn’t aiming on having sex in the bathroom, it was too small, but he didn’t exactly want to be left empty-handed when they finally got to that point.

 

Bucky paused for a moment, hovering over the doorknob to Steve’s bedroom. Steve was actually doing this with him. He hadn’t expected this. He would have waited for _years_ if Steve needed it. Bucky felt his chest tighten as tears blurred his vision. Steve loved him, implicitly, entirely. Bucky wasn’t broken. Peter didn’t have to worry. They were taking care of each other. Bucky would prove to everyone how much he loved Steve. He’d show them how entirely he’d care for Steve.

 

Bucky didn’t need therapy. He just needed Steve.

 

He walked back to the bathroom, closing the door quietly. “Move down.”

 

Steve obliged.

 

Bucky got into the tub, one leg at a time before lowering himself and spreading his legs around Steve’s frame. “I love that you fit right into me,” he whispered, pulling Steve back and kissing his shoulder. “You’re body’s so perfect for me, Stevie.”

 

Steve leaned back, humming softly. “I wanna make love with you.”

 

“Is that your polite way of saying, “Hurry the fuck up, Bucky?” Bucky snorted, pressing a kiss to the nape of Steve’s neck, earning a soft shiver.

 

“Yup.”

 

Bucky kissed at the shell of Steve’s ear, nibbling the soft cartilage. He licked down the outline, sucking in the lobe.

 

“Mmm, that feels nice,” Steve lilted.

 

Bucky reached his hands around Steve’s frame, finding two, soft nipples. He fingered each one, twisting softly.

 

“Ah! Bucky!” Steve gasped. He jerked his hips, sloshing the water softly.

 

“Shh,” Bucky cooed. “Gotta be quiet in here, baby.” He licked at the other ear, nibbling on the lobe.

 

Steve leaned into his touch, curving his spine so he was pressed completely against Bucky’s chest.

 

Bucky continued to swirl his fingers around Steve’s nipples, pulling at them when they formed into soft little nubs in his fingers. He kissed down a line from Steve’s neck to the dip of his shoulder. “You’ve got the cutest nipples, Stevie. All pink n’ small.”

 

Steve dropped his head back, resting it against Bucky’s shoulder.

 

“I wanna play with them all night.”

 

“I want you to stick your dick in me,” Steve responded pointedly.

 

Bucky laughed, completely forgetting he needed to be quiet. He was proud. Steve had never felt comfortable enough to be so forward with Bucky. There was always a soft hesitancy but it was completely gone now. The wall that Steve had built was obliterated, smashed to millions of pieces, cast in the wind. He pressed a loud kiss to the back of Steve’s shoulder. “Gimme that washcloth.”

 

Steve handed it back.

 

Bucky dipped it into the water. “Spread your legs baby. Push back more into me.”

 

Steve did as he was asked. He sighed softly.

 

Bucky could feel how fast Steve’s heart was beating in his back. His ribs thrummed softly in its rhythm. “If you want me to stop, just tell me, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Bucky dipped the washcloth beneath the water, bringing it to Steve’s ass. He slid it along the crack slowly, pressing soft kisses into the crook of Steve’s neck. “You’re so good, baby,” he whispered. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

 

Steve sighed in content, letting his muscles relax further till he was being supported completely by Bucky. Bucky pushed the washcloth further against Steve’s ass, bringing it up to Steve’s hole and circling it softly.

 

“Ahh…” Steve breathed out. “Feels good.”

 

“Yeah?” Bucky asked softly, kissing Steve’s shoulder. “Gonna get you all clean and nice for me, baby.”

 

“Mmm,” Steve hummed, letting his knees drop against the sides of the tub. “More Bucky.”

 

Bucky caressed the towel along the hole, pushing his fingers behind it. He could feel the tiny opening through the fabric. He pressed his fingers against it, sliding them up and down, letting the terrycloth brush up against Steve adoringly.

 

“Ohh,” Steve moaned. “Fuck, Bucky...This feels so good.”

 

“Now imagine my tongue there instead,” Bucky chuckled. “Gonna feel way better, dollbaby.”

 

Steve nodded against Bucky’s chest. He’d been slowly slipping down into the water as his body relaxed.

 

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Bucky teased. He continued circling the terrycloth at Steve’s hole, letting that soft friction pull Steve into a comforting stupor.

 

“M’not,” Steve whined, pushing his hips down, trying to get more friction. “Just didn’t expect it to feel so good.”

 

“You’ve never stuck a finger up your ass before?” Bucky bluntly asked.

 

“N-no. Been too scared to.”

 

Bucky dropped the washcloth. He pressed his finger up against Steve’s hole, running it along the divots in the muscle.

 

“Ah! Ah, Bucky!” Steve gasped, arching his back.

 

“You like this, baby?” Bucky stroked his finger along the hole, teasing it as if he’d push in, but never really getting more than the smallest bit beyond the rim. Water was _not_ a lubricant, in Bucky’s opinion. He’d been fingered once in the Red Sea. That shit stung for days.

 

“Yeah, Buck. S’really good.”

 

“You’re all clean now, baby,” Bucky whispered, licking at Steve’s ear. “Wanna get out and let me kiss that little asshole?”

 

Steve whined, pushing himself back into Bucky more. “But this feels so good.”

 

“It’ll feel better,” Bucky sang. “I promise.”

 

“Okay,” Steve grumbled.

 

Bucky ran his fingers along Steve’s cheeks, around his hipbones and down against Steve’s erection. “Look at you, baby,” he cooed. “All nice n’ hard for me again.”

 

Steve nodded. He had his eyes closed. Bucky was honestly worried he _would_ fall asleep on him. He’d not wanted to rush anything. He wanted to take his complete time with Steve. They had all night and Bucky was going to take full advantage of that.

 

He grabbed at Steve’s cock, stroking it a few times, palming over the tip.

 

“Ah! Fuck!” Steve hissed, jerking his hips and spilling water over the side of the tub. “B-Bucky!”

 

“Don’t go to sleep!” Bucky laughed.

 

“I’m not!”

 

“Stand up.”

 

“You’re rude,” Steve protested, but he did. Water spilled down his form like tiny cascades of sparkling streams. Bucky stood up, snaking his arm around to the closet behind the tub and pulling out two towels. He handed one to Steve. They dried off hastily, stealing kisses from each other when they couldn’t keep from each other any more.

 

Bucky spun his towel up and whipped it at Steve’s thigh, making it crack softly against the skin.

 

“Bucky!” Steve yelped. “I’m gonna beat you!”

 

“Oh please do, baby,” Bucky pleaded. “I like being swatted.”

 

“Really?” Steve asked, tilting his head to the side.

 

“Yeah, I’m kind of an ass guy. Like being hit and getting to hit.”

 

“Is this the terribly awkward moment where I learn you’re super into BD/SM and I’m the failure of a vanilla boyfriend?”

 

Bucky snorted. “No,” he answered, pressing a soft kiss against Steve’s lips. “But if you wanna smack your dick against my face, I’m not gonna complain.”

 

“Bucky!”

 

“Come on, Stevie,” Bucky chimed, reaching his hand down for Steve’s and walking out the bathroom together.

 

They made it to the couch before Steve’s fingers found their way up Bucky’s chest. Steve’s little frame pressed up against Bucky’s back, his hands gliding up and down Bucky’s body.

 

“Steve,” Bucky whispered. “Your mom’s right there…” Bucky jerked his head toward the closed door.

 

“I’m not a very vanilla boyfriend,” Steve keened. He bit at Bucky’s back before trailing wet kisses from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. His hands reached down, wrapping slender fingers around Bucky’s cock and stroking slowly at an agonizing pace.

 

“St-Steve,” Bucky moaned out; his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t wanna wake her.”

 

“Then don’t,” Steve responded. He continued to stroke at Bucky’s cock, swirling his thumb up against the head, pulling a whine from Bucky’s throat.

 

Bucky rubbed his ass back against Steve, feeling his lover’s cock trace over his crack. “This the part where you shove me on my hands and knees and fuck me from behind?”

 

Steve giggled, palming over Bucky’s dick once more, smearing the precome before letting go and jumping onto the couch, ass up as he pressed his face into the cushions, looking back with needy, desperate eyes. He wiggled his ass before speaking, “This is the part where you shove your tongue down my hole.”

 

Bucky shivered, feeling an electric current shoot down from his brain, around his spine and out into his extremities like fireworks. He spun around, grabbing the lube and his condom that he’d forgotten in the bathroom and put them on the coffee table. “You get too loud and we wake your mom, and I’ll die of embarrassment.”

 

“Okay,” Steve agreed, swaying his ass in the air again.

 

Bucky sat behind Steve, running his hands up and down the soft curves of Steve’s ass, squeezing the flesh in his hands. “You’ve got the sexiest, little ass I’ve ever seen.” He smacked it lightly, watching it quake against the impact. “Fuck, Stevie, you’re so pretty.”

 

“Lick my hole, Bucky,” Steve whined, pressing his ass back into Bucky’s hands.

 

Bucky snorted. “What happened to “I don’t know, Bucky, I’ve never done that before!”

 

“You helped me get over my fear,” Steve responded. “I want it really bad, Bucky.”

 

Bucky’s brow rose up, a devilish smirk ghosting over his lips. “Oh yeah? You want it really bad?”

 

Steve nodded, still peering out from under his blonde bangs up at Bucky. “I’m leakin’ all over myself for it.”

 

Bucky groaned, feeling his cock throb violently in response to the neediness in Steve’s voice. “Christ, Stevie, I didn’t think you’d get like this.”

 

“Get like what?” Just like that, Steve was letting that nervous, hesitancy crawl back into his tone.

 

“Get real sexy and dirty talk me,” Bucky responded, trying to console him back into the part he clearly was enjoying playing. He pulled Steve’s asscheeks apart, circling his thumb over that little hole.

 

“Ah!” Steve gasped. “I...you like it?”

 

Bucky circled his thumb softly over the muscle, feeling it flutter against him. He spat down over the opening, smearing the saliva. He’d get the lube in a second. “Yeah, baby. You’re so perfect. Talkin’ to me all dirty and cute like that. Wanna hear you talk more like that.”

 

“You do?” Steve asked.

 

Bucky scooted down the couch. He kept his hands against Steve’s ass, spreading him wide as he gave an exploratory lick up against that perfect rim.

 

“Bucky!” Steve hissed. “More Bucky...please more!”

 

“Talk dirty to me, Stevie,” Bucky requested. He bit one of Steve’s asscheeks, smiling as Steve shivered against him.

 

“Want you to...take your tongue Buck. Want it in me. Want you eating me out all nice till I’m begging you to fuck me with your big cock.”

 

Bucky laughed. So, Steve needed some lessons in dirty talk, that was okay. Bucky liked Steve’s innocent endearing quality better anyway. “Whatever you want, baby.” He pressed his face up against Steve’s ass, flicking his tongue out and swirling it against the hole.

 

Steve pushed back, dropping his face into the cushions as he whimpered into them.

 

Bucky loved how Steve’s muscles shuddered around him, as if they couldn’t decide he made them feel too good or they were starved for more. He sucked loudly at the muscle before sliding his tongue up it again. God, Bucky could do this for a lifetime. Steve’s hole was so taut but it was relaxing so nice for him. He tasted _good_ too, like unsweetened cashews.

 

Bucky hooked his arms under Steve’s legs, tugging him a bit closer as he sat, curving his spine so he could get at Steve’s hole. It wasn’t the most ideal position, but Bucky wasn’t sure how Steve would feel about sitting on his face just yet. The thought though was exhilarating. Bucky could picture Steve atop his face, swaying his little hips as Bucky would plunge his tongue so deep, coating those inside muscles with hot, thick saliva.

 

“Sit up,” Bucky said after he’d gotten a better idea. “Turn over.”

 

Steve whined but he did as Bucky wanted. His knees dropped lazily to either side of him, his ass still open and practically begging for Bucky’s tongue. “I like this, Bucky.”

 

Bucky smiled, pressing a kiss to the corner of Steve’s eye. “I’m glad, baby.”

 

He lay down, hooking Steve’s legs over him once more. Pressing his nose up against Steve’s perineum, he licked slowly at that needy hole. This was much more comfortable for him! He lazily reached up, squeezing Steve’s balls as he finally pushed his tongue inside Steve.

 

“Bucky!” Steve gasped. “Oh fuck, Bucky...Bucky...Bucky…” he panted, rolling his hips back to meet Bucky’s tongue.

 

Bucky hooked his tongue inside Steve, pulling it to the rim before pushing back inside. Saliva coated his face as he pushed further inside, squishing his nose. He breathed loudly, swirling his tongue against the walls of Steve’s canal.

 

“Ah, ah, ah! B-Bucky...Bucky! So good, so good, so good!” Steve squeaked. He reached up behind him, squeezing the plush armrest.

 

Bucky pulled back, swirling his tongue along the exterior again, looking up with taunting eyes as he lapped at Steve’s perineum.

 

“Bucky!”

 

“Feel good, baby? Gotta keep quiet if you want to keep up like this.”

 

Steve gulped. His little chest was heaving violently. Bucky could hear the faintest wheezing coming from those delicate lungs.

 

“You good to keep going, baby?”

 

Steve nodded, dropping his head back against the armrest.

 

Bucky flicked his tongue out along the rim again, swirling it a few times before dipping inside, flattening out his tongue and pushing it in and out.

 

Steve arched his back, his toes extending and curling as he fought off moaning. Bucky looked up occasionally, watching Steve’s face get redder and redder as he bit his lip, muffling his beautiful little moans. Bucky moved his whole head in a circular motion, slipping his tongue along against the walls of Steve’s insides and out along the rim. He slid his fingers along Steve’s perineum, preening when he heard Steve gasp and thud his head back.

 

“Bucky...m’gonna come from this…”

 

Bucky thrust his tongue along the hole, hooking his tongue once more and letting it flick out against the muscle, over and over. He nibbled at the rim, earning tiny little moans as Steve smacked his palm over his mouth and started to bite the fleshiest part of his palm.

 

“Want me to start using my fingers, Stevie?”

 

“Can...Can I try?”

 

“Fingering yourself?” Bucky asked as he grabbed the lube.

 

“N-no,” Steve answered bashfully. His dark lashes cast long, jagged shadows against his silver face. “I wanna...try.”

 

Bucky’s brows rose up as it dawned on him. “Oh!”

 

“I don’t have to,” Steve tried to rush out.

 

“No! No, I want you to, baby. I’ll give you everything, remember?” Bucky sat back, biting his lip.

“How do you want me?”

 

Steve furrowed his brow, sucking on his teeth as he looked to be in thought. “Where is it best?”

 

Bucky laughed, reaching behind his neck and massaging at the skin. “If I sit on your face.”

“Seriously?”

 

“Do you even watch porn, Rogers?”

 

“N-not really.”

 

“God, you’re such an adorable fool,” Bucky groaned out. “Get on the floor.”

 

Steve walked around the couch, moving closer to the dining area. “I like this rug best.”

 

“Lay on it then, baby,” Bucky instructed. He walked over, putting his knees on either side of Steve’s neck. “If you wanna stop, just smack me, okay?”

 

“K,” Steve said. He reached up, grazing a finger along Bucky’s asshole. Bucky stifled the moan that threatened to rip from the back of his throat. He curved his back, trying his best to not double over. He hadn’t done this in a long time. Steve’s fingers were always a little cold. It made his hole feel so good when his skin was so hot. “This okay?”

 

“Yeah, baby,” Bucky answered. “Do whatever you want.”

 

Steve lifted his head, hesitantly lapping at Bucky’s hole. Bucky clenched his thighs, feeling his spine dip as pleasure blossomed from his ass, warming his stomach like the sun.

 

“Don’t tease me, Stevie,” Bucky whispered.

 

Steve flicked his tongue out again, tracing it along Bucky’s hole as he held onto Bucky’s hips.

 

Bucky looked over his shoulder, down at Steve. He smiled, watching those little brows pinch together as Steve kept his eyes closed. “You’re doin’ good, doll.”

 

Steve let his hands wander along Bucky’s abdomen, caressing lazily along the muscles that resided there. He continued to circle his tongue along the rim, clearly exploring it in detail before finding his bearings.

 

“Push your tongue in me, baby,” Bucky requested as he dropped his head back. “Ah, fuck, baby this is good.”

 

Steve listened, slipping his tongue inside Bucky’s opening. He let the wet muscle run along the inside, pushing it back and forth before tentatively coiling it around and against the walls of Bucky’s insides.

 

Bucky doubled over, reaching his hands out to brace himself as he came face-to-face with Steve’s cock.

 

Steve had to get up on his elbows to reach Bucky’s ass, but he hadn’t pulled Bucky back and Bucky took that as an opportunity. He lapped his tongue over Steve’s cock, tasting the precome that spilled out.

 

Steve hissed softly but he responded by pushing his face further against Bucky’s ass, slipping his tongue further inside and twirling it _hard_ against the sides.

 

“S-Steve!” Bucky moaned softly. “God, you’re so good baby.”

 

Steve’s hips jerked in front of him. Bucky looked down, grabbing Steve’s dick in his hand and sucking his tip into his mouth. He swirled his tongue along the tip, laving at the underside.

 

Steve mewled into Bucky’s hole. He grabbed at Bucky’s ass, spreading his cheeks apart and pressing his tongue flesh against Bucky’s opening, slowly thrusting it back and forth along it.

 

“Ah...ah _God_ , Stevie!” Bucky purred. He kissed along his lover’s erection, lapping at the base before twirling his tongue along its length.

 

He heard Steve’s head smack against the floor. “Fuck!” Steve hissed out. “Don’t stop, Bucky.”

 

Bucky sucked Steve into his mouth, tracing the lines of Steve’s veins with his tongue, memorizing the dips and the soft bend of Steve’s cock. He pumped his head gently, keeping his eyes closed as he fought the desire to fall down against Steve as his little lover continued to lap enthusiastically at his hole. His cock was leaking precome in a steady rhythm as it pulsed pointedly. He panted around Steve’s erection, hollowing out his cheeks as he let his lips slide up and down that saliva-coated dick.

 

“B-Bucky!” Steve gasped. “Fuck, baby…”

 

Bucky wiggled his hips, pushing his ass back into Steve’s face. Steve pushed his tongue back inside Bucky, flattening it out and working it lazily along the insides. He reached up, grabbing at Bucky’s balls before slipping his hand along Bucky’s perineum, dancing his fingers in soft, lazy circles there.

 

Bucky was going to die. He felt hot, save for the tiny coolness coming from the tips of Steve’s fingers. His stomach was pulsating with waves of pleasure, increasing in ferocity with each swipe of Steve’s soft fingers and plumet of that _delicious_ tongue. His heart was racing in his chest, pumping blood down into his cock as it purpled and whined in silent desperation. Bucky needed to come.

 

He pushed back on Steve’s face, sucking harder at Steve’s dick. Saliva dribbled around Steve’s base, sparking into the dark room like the moon’s reflection in rippling water. Steve’s tongue was relentless against his hole, swirling and hooking against his rim.

 

He whined, long and desperate around Steve’s cock, lapping at the slit, pulling a muffled moan from Steve.

 

“Touch my cock, baby,” Bucky mewled. “Please, baby, please touch me.”

 

Steve hooked his fingers around Bucky’s torso, reaching down and encircling Bucky’s cock. He stroked at him softly, flicking his wrist so he could palm along the slit.

 

Bucky dropped his head to the side of Steve’s cock, pressing a moan into the skin and nibbling desperately at those tiny, delicate hipbones. “Fuck, Stevie...you’re so good, baby. So _fuckin’_ good.”

 

Steve hummed against Bucky’s hole, sending vibrations down into Bucky’s _bones_ pulling out another wrecked moan from Bucky’s lips. He shoved his mouth over Steve’s dick again in a desperate attempt to hide the sounds he was making. He didn’t want Sarah to wake up and find her son’s tongue in Bucky’s ass.  

 

He felt his hole squeezing and opening as it couldn’t decide what to do with Steve’s tongue. His stomach burned with a maddening pleasure as he panted roughly through his nose. Steve’s tongue was a fucking _godsend_ and those _fingers_ ; all long and cool and slender against his cock…

 

He felt his thighs tense up as his nerves were practically set aflame with overstimulation. He moaned around Steve’s cock loudly as he spewed his seed violently into Steve’s hand and against his lover’s body. He rocked his hips, writhing frantically as his orgasm pulsed through him, leaving him breathless and seeing heavy, black dots. He ripped himself away from Steve, rolling on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and gasping for air.

 

“You little shit,” he said hoarsely. “You knew what you were doing!”

 

Steve laughed. “So I may have lied. I’ve watched porn. I just think it’s cute when you get all flustered with me.”

 

He’d have smacked Steve if he wasn’t so worn out. “I still need to make love to you.”

 

Steve looked over at the oven’s clock. “It’s only 2AM. We’ve got time.”

 

Bucky shivered, feeling a cool film of sweat cling to his skin. He groaned, crawling over to Steve and dropping a head onto Steve’s shoulder. “You wanna come again or do you wanna wait?”

 

“I wanna wait,” Steve answered, pressing a soft kiss to Bucky’s cheek. “You’re so pretty when you’re moaning like that. Wish you didn’t have to keep quiet.”

 

“Next time, right?” Bucky teased, turning in to kiss Steve on the lips. They sighed into each other, allowing their tongues to laze against each other in a gentle rhythm. Soft kissing sounds echoed around the dining area as Bucky focused on his heartbeat, still pounding heavily behind its cage. He pulled Steve into him, wrapping his arms and legs around his slender boyfriend. He pushed his lips harder against Steve’s, nibbling softly against the blonde’s bottom lip. “I love you.”

 

Steve smiled, breathless with pink cheeks. “I love you too.”

 

“Think you can take my fingers now?”

 

“You’re seriously ready?” Steve exclaimed, his brows rising into his hairline.

 

“You drive me crazy, Stevie,” Bucky whispered against Steve’s lips.

 

“Go get the lube,” Steve chirped, nipping playfully at Bucky’s lip.

 

Bucky stood up, his legs quivering slightly before he stood to his full height. He walked over to the coffee table, snatching up the condom and the bottle of lube. He put them on the kitchen counter, dropping behind Steve and massaging his shoulders softly, pressing light kisses to the back of Steve’s neck.

 

“Mmm,” Steve hummed. “Now that’ll put me to sleep.”

 

Bucky hooked his arms under Steve’s yanking him up and spinning him around. He picked Steve up, wrapping those flawless legs around his torso. “I make love to you in the kitchen.”

 

“My mom cooks in there!”

 

“We’ll clean it!”

 

Steve giggled, pressing tiny kisses to Bucky’s face as Bucky walked them over into the kitchen. He set Steve over the sink so he could still reach under him and get at his hole. He leaned over, grabbing the lube and bringing it behind Steve’s back as he looked over his lover’s shoulder.

 

“You’re hilarious,” Steve commented. “I never thought it’d be like this.”

 

“Like what?” Bucky asked flatly. He smeared his fingers with the cool lubricant.

 

“Easy. Like we’ just hanging out.”

 

“We are just hanging out,” Bucky affirmed. “Just naked and making each other feel good.” He pressed a gentle kiss against Steve’s lips before bringing his finger to Steve’s hole and swirling the pad of his finger along it.

 

“Ah!” Steve gasped. “S’cold.”

 

“You’ll be okay, beautiful,” Bucky consoled. He continued to swirl his finger, memorizing the way Steve’s hole fluttered when he’d touch it a bit too fast and how it relaxed when he’d slow down. “You’re the most beautiful thing on the planet, Stevie.” He pressed a kiss against those red, swollen lips. “You drive me crazy.” He pushed a finger up into Steve, feeling the walls of his muscles shut in on him as he fidgeted against the sink. “You’re doing so good, baby.”

 

“B-Bucky,” Steve mewled. “Feels so good.”

 

Bucky pumped his finger, in and out; nice and slow. He pressed soft, lazy kisses atop Steve’s lips, flicking his tongue along his lover’s when they’d rise up to meet each other. He slipped in another finger, assuming it’d be okay from his tongue before.

 

Steve’s back went rigid as he clung to Bucky’s neck a bit tighter, letting out a tiny hiss in pain.

 

“Are you okay?” Bucky whispered. “I can stop!”

 

“N-no. Don’t stop. I like it, Buck.” He kissed Bucky’s lips in reassurance.

 

Bucky circled his fingers slowly inside Steve, careful not to catch his nails against those soft walls. He lazily traced his tongue along Steve’s lips, smiling as Steve nipped at his tongue shyly. “You’re so pretty, Stevie.”

 

“What do you see when you look at me?” Steve asked softly.

 

Bucky swirled his fingers once more before spreading them out in Steve’s hole, scissoring slowly.

 

“Ah!” Steve gasped. “Fuck…”

 

“You okay?”

 

Steve nodded, dropping his forehead against Bucky’s shoulder. “Wanna know...what you see.”

 

Bucky stared at the window behind them, looking at the lights that shined above the black road. “I see an angel that was literally created to be the most beautiful thing in existence.” He pressed a kiss to the nape of Steve’s neck. “I see a man whose heart is too big for his body and it makes me go crazy cause he gets in these fights he knows he can’t win, but he does it anyway cause he’s just _so good_.” He kissed at Steve’s ear, lightly grazing his teeth over the shell of the ear. “I see a talented artist who’s gonna go so far cause he’s so talented. I see perfection, Stevie. You’re so perfect it _hurts_.” He slipped in a third finger.

 

Steve yelped, burying his face in Bucky’s shoulder as he clamped his legs around Bucky’s torso. His hands snaked into Bucky’s hair, pulling at the strands almost painfully.

 

“You okay, baby?” Bucky whispered.

 

“I love you,” Steve answered. “I love you so much it hurts me too.”

 

Bucky laughed, kissing against Steve’s cheeks loudly, kiss after kiss before Steve finally turned in and laced his lips with Bucky’s.

 

Bucky rocked his fingers slowly inside Steve. He wasn’t going to rush this. He’d show Steve what it really meant to make love to someone. He’d bring Steve so high they’d cry, thick, wet tears as they came together. He’d make sure Steve felt better than he ever had throughout his entire existence.

 

Steve gasped as Bucky grazed over his prostate, light enough to tease it, show Steve that it was even there. “G-God, Bucky,” he hissed. “Do that again.”

 

Bucky snorted, pressing another kiss into Steve’s lips. He stoked all three fingers over Steve’s prostate, feeling Steve’s body clamp around him like a shell. “Fuck, Steve,” Bucky breathed out. “You’re so strong, holding onto me so tight.”

 

Steve laughed softly, but tears shimmered in his eyes. He pressed a kiss against Bucky’s forehead before kissing his nose and then finally his lips. “Feels so perfect.”

 

“Mm,” Bucky hummed. “Let me know when you think you’re ready, baby.”

 

“You hard already?” Steve asked innocently.

 

“Getting there.”

 

Steve laughed, nipping at Bucky’s lips. “You’re so pretty with your fingers in me, Buck.”

 

Bucky snorted. “Takin’ a line from my book!”

 

Steve rolled his body in a long, pronounced body roll against Bucky’s fingers. “Make love to me,” he whined needily.

 

“Wanna get me hard, baby?” Bucky whispered against Steve’s lips, licking at them softly.

 

Steve reached down, stroking at Bucky’s cock. He circled his fingers over the slit before slipping them to the underside and thrumming his fingers against it. “Can’t reach further,” he pouted.

 

Bucky laughed. “S’okay, you’re doing good just like that.”

 

They continued to kiss, neither in a hurry to let this moment find an end. Bucky’s body was radiating with a drowning sensation of love and adoration. Everything around him was moving in slow-motion. The only thing that mattered, the only person who would ever matter was the only being in existence that could keep up with him.

 

Steve’s slender fingers continued to massage at Bucky’s hardening cock, pulling little pulses of excitement into it, making it twitch.

 

Bucky rolled his hips into Steve’s hand. He sighed out in content as he felt his cock start bobbing up against his hip. “You ready, baby?” he asked. He didn’t dare raise his voice anything above a mumbled whisper.

 

“Yeah,” Steve sighed. “I want you in me.”

 

Bucky grabbed the condom, letting Steve tear it open. He slipped his fingers out of Steve’s ass, listening to the most adorable whine he’d ever received from his lover. He pinched the tip of the condom before sliding it down his length. Grabbing the lube, Bucky squeezed out a gratuitous amount, coating his dick. “C’mere.”

 

Steve scooted a bit forward, letting his body be completely suspended by Bucky. He tightened his hold on Bucky’s neck.

 

“M’not gonna let you fall, baby,” Bucky whispered. “Trust me.”

 

“I do trust you,” Steve answered.

 

Bucky lined himself up, letting Steve drop a bit, allowing gravity to slip his cock into that tight, hot hole. “Ff-fuck,” he breathed out. “Shit, Stevie…”

 

Steve mewled, pressing his face down into Bucky’s shoulder and biting him a bit too hard.

 

Bucky was pretty sure Steve broke skin, but he didn’t care. He wouldn’t jump back or yelp. He wouldn't do anything to spoil this for Steve. “Feel okay, baby?”

 

Steve nodded against Bucky’s shoulder, whining softly.

 

Bucky moved away from the sink, letting Steve be pushed up against the kitchen counters now. His cock slipped further into Steve with each gentle, soft thrust of his hips.

 

“Ah...ah...ah…” Steve panted. “Bucky...you’re...you’re a lot bigger than I thought.”

 

“Does it hurt?” Bucky asked, his brows knitting together as he stared intently at Steve, searching for any sign that this was too much.

 

“Just a little,” Steve groaned. “I can take it.”

 

“I can stop,” Bucky answered, ready to pull out and be done with this if it was causing Steve too much pain.

 

“No!” Steve said, rocking his hips to get more of Bucky in him. “I want this.”

 

“...Okay,” Bucky resigned, pressing a kiss to Steve’s ear. “Please tell me if it gets to be too much.”

 

“Keep going,” Steve growled.

 

Bucky let Steve drop just a tiny bit more. He braced his feet against the floor, suppressing a shudder that wanted to rock through his muscles. Steve was _so tight_. “I’m all in baby. You’re doing so good.”

 

“Shut up,” Steve hissed, still keeping his face pressed into Bucky’s shoulder. “Hold on.” He moved his hips hesitantly, bobbing up and down on Bucky’s cock with a furrowed brow. “Ah…” His legs started to tremble around Bucky’s torso. “It’s okay…”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Steve pressed a kiss against Bucky’s lips, letting his hips bob up and down. “It’s starting to feel good.”

 

Bucky spun them around so he was leaning against the counter, he pushed his feet into the tile and thrust lightly into Steve. “You like it?” he asked.

 

“Yeah,” Steve whispered. “Feels real nice.”

 

“I can take you to the bed if you want?”

 

Steve giggled. “No. This is kinda fun.”

 

Bucky pressed a smiling kiss against Steve’s soft lips. “Fine. We can stay here.”

 

“Next time we can have sex in the bedroom,” Steve mused. “I may as well make my rounds in this apartment.”

 

“Just not your mom’s room,” Bucky teased. “That’d be weird.”

 

“Please don’t talk about that person while you’re inside me.”

 

Bucky barked out a laugh, ducking his head when he realized he’d been too loud. “Oh shit! Sorry!’

“Oh my God, just make love to me,” Steve whined, rolling his hips into Bucky’s.

 

Bucky obliged, lifting Steve up and letting him drop back down softly as he thrust into Steve. This was exactly how this was supposed to be. They’d had their fun, messing around in the bathroom, the couch and...the floor, but this was what it was really about. Bucky wanted to mold into Steve, intertwine their souls or energies or whatever till they were letting their hearts beat as one and breathing in synch.

 

He pulled back, letting his cock rest against the rim of Steve’s hole before slowly arching it back in.

 

“Ah!” Steve moaned. “Ah fuck, Bucky…”

 

“You like it slow?” Bucky asked, nipping at Steve’s shoulder.

 

“Mmm, yeah,” Steve responded.

 

Bucky repeated the motion, letting his cock threaten to fall out before slipping back up inside Steve. He rocked into Steve softly, smiling when Steve’s little hips would press into his.

 

Steve’s mouth fell open as he let his head fall back. He let out silent, soft, breathy moans with each gentle, silent thrust. This wasn’t the desperate, pounding, smacking flesh on flesh. Everything was entirely intentional and patient, calculating and rhythmic. Bucky wouldn’t let Steve just come without really knowing what it felt like to be taken _care_ of. That’s what Bucky was doing. He was taking care of Steve. He was proving that Steve _was_ worth it. Steve was worth more than ten strong men. His passion could inspire thousands if they’d only just see beyond his little bones and delicate cheeks. He could rule the world if someone stopped looking at his size and started measuring his intentions. There wasn’t a malicious bone in this little man’s body.

 

“Bu-Bucky,” Steve whined. “Y-you’re crying.”

 

Bucky nodded, pressing a soft kiss against the only lips he’d ever want to feel again. “I know.”

 

“You okay?” Steve asked, circling his hips, letting Bucky’s dick graze against the walls of his ass.

 

“Ah!” Bucky gasped. “Y-yeah, Steve. M’okay. I just love you.”

 

Steve smiled, pulling Bucky’s face to his and keeping him there, locked with his lips. They thrust into each other lazily, using long, pronounced rolls, shivering together as gentle heat built up in their bodies. Bucky could feel the heat that pooled in Steve’s face, even his fingers were warm. He reached a hand down, to stroke along Steve’s perineum, pressing up into it so he could gaze at Steve’s prostate from the outside.

 

“Bucky!” Steve hissed. “Ah, good, so good baby!”

 

“I’d do anything for you, Stevie,” Bucky whispered, pressing kisses against that soft jawline. He couldn’t stop crying. He’d never needed someone so badly till he “met” Steve. Maybe it was the letters, but he’d written his heart to this blonde, tiny man. He’d sent his soul, bit by bit and Steve kept each and every piece of it within him. “I love you too much.”

 

Steve laughed, his eyes getting misty. His limbs were trembling violently around Bucky. “I love _you_ too much.”

 

“I’m gonna take care of you forever. I’ll never hurt you.”

 

Steve’s breath hitched as he lulled into Bucky. He bit his lip, allowing tears to finally spill from his eyes. “I...I’ll never hurt you either.”

 

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, tilting his head to the side. “Cause you gotta protect me, remember baby?” He let his cock slip out of Steve before plunging it back in.

 

“Ahh, ff-fuck, yeah...I remember.”

 

“So you gonna protect me?” He pressed a quick kiss against Steve’s lips once more.

 

“Always,” Steve cried out, squeezing Bucky so tight, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to breathe again.

 

They rocked into each other silently after that, only the sounds of soft, gentle slicks of lube and soft hissing of skin grazing skin. They pressed their mouths to each other, in no hurry to do anything other than exist in the same space as the other. Bucky continued to stroke at Steve’s perineum, pressing up and into the prostate. He’d receive soft gasps and tiny little moans as Steve would kiss him fiercer when it felt truly good.

 

Bucky wasn’t sure why, but he just _couldn’t_ stop crying. Tears streamed from his eyes like rain from grey clouds but when he’d look at Steve’s face, he was doing the same. His body trembled, the strain on his muscles from Steve’s weight finally catching up to him. He rolled his hips still, using those pronounced thrusts that Steve seemed to love so much.

 

Steve dropped his head against Bucky’s shoulder, mewling louder now as his legs squeezed tighter around Bucky’s torso. “Bucky...Bucky...I love you, I love you, I love you,” he panted.

 

Bucky felt Steve’s muscles clamp around him, enveloping him further in and holding him there. Steve was coming. Bucky watched with transfixed eyes as Steve threw his head back, letting his mouth drop open as he whispered over and over, “ _I love you, I love you, I love you.”_

 

Steve’s hole was already so _tight_ , but now, with it fluttering and clamping down in soft, pulses, Bucky wasn’t sure he could hold on anymore. He grunted, dropping his face into Steve’s neck as he kissed obsessively at the skin, feeling his balls squeeze up into his body as heat overflowed from his stomach, pushing out his cock. “Steve,” he whined. “I love you too, baby.” It wasn’t the most intense orgasm of his life, it wasn’t even the best when it came to how good it felt (considering he’d come within the hour already); it was tired, lazy and overworked but it was _perfect_. It left him feeling warm and cozy within Steve’s arms, wrapped up like a caterpillar in a cocoon. It was gentle and reassuring and that’s all Bucky wanted right now. He didn’t care about coming. He cared about _Steve_ , and as long as Steve was happy, Bucky was happy.

 

Bucky pressed soft, gentle kisses against Steve’s cheeks, tasting the salty tears that continued to slip from those big eyes. “I love you,” he whispered against Steve’s cheekbone. “I’ll always love you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky tossed and turned in his sleep, curling in on himself, his brows furrowing slightly in distress. His mind kept playing over the memory on loop, repeating in vivid clarity the image of fire, torn metal, and blood soaked sand around him.

 

Jolting upright, Bucky gasped, feeling like someone had reached down his throat and pulled out his heart. He stared at the far wall; eyes were wide and leaking fresh tears down his face. He breathed in deep, ragged breaths, feeling as if his lungs were going to collapse at any minute. He could feel warmth next to him, a body, lying still.

 

Bucky’s eyes averted from the wall to the body next to him, and he choked on his breath; he stared at the figure next to him for a brief moment, his fingers curling into fists as he stared at the body with long thin limbs, a curved back… a shock of gold hair.

 

Bucky inhaled, feeling his shoulders slumping just a bit as he stared down at Steve, feeling his heart hammering wildly against his ribcage as he tried, desperately, to bring himself back down from the scare he’d just had. For fuck’s sake, he hadn't’ recognized Steve laying next to him? For the briefest of moments, Bucky had actually thought that there was someone else laying next to him. It hadn’t been just the trick of the lighting; he actually _saw_ a completely different person there...

 

It had been brief… it was barely a moment in time, but to Bucky it was an eternity. How could he have forgotten than Steve was curled up next to him, still as naked as he had been when he’d made love to him in the kitchen? How could he have pictured someone else entirely, when his Stevie was laying there, as innocent as ever?  Bucky huffed, scrubbing his hand over his eyes before really taking a good look at his bed partner, remembering the night they'd just had together. Feeling satisfied he wasn’t hallucinating, he slowly lay back down, carefully wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and pulling him close to his chest.

 

"Nnn," Steve whined in his sleep, readjusting his head on the pillow.

 

Bucky quickly concluded that his nightmare had just disoriented him for a moment; he hadn’t had many of them since his return to the states, but the ones he did have had usually left him feeling drained and confused, as if he’d run a thousand miles with no oxygen in his lungs. Shaking his head, Bucky pressed a gentle kiss to Steve’s forehead, savoring his warmth and shampoo-sweet scent before he closed his eyes again. He was fine. This was good. There wasn’t anything wrong with him. He wasn’t broken; it had just been a nightmare… nothing to be worried about.

 

Bucky was fine...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Hope the double spaces didn't annoy you, they made me cry in frustration though....)
> 
> SO YEAH THEY HAD SEX!
> 
> Let me know your thoughts? Feedback is appreciated! (Bucky is fine right? RIGHT?)


	6. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a wonderful Thanksgiving spent together by all, the worst happens...
> 
> Bucky breaks and someone suffers terribly for it. Could Peter have been right this whole time? It may be too late for someone, and Bucky may suffer the consequences of his denial and his actions...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the closing notes once you have finished the chapter.
> 
> All i have are two apologies for our readers:
> 
> 1\. I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this chapter done. At a whopping 25k words, this is the biggest chapter I have ever written, and I didn't want to rush to get it out before I left for my weekend away. It needed all the attention I could give it.
> 
> 2\. You are all going to HATE me after this chapter is over. I'm just so sorry for what is to come... I'll have cookies and tissues waiting for everyone once they have finished, as my apology for this harsh chapter. Please form an orderly queue to stock up on comfort items.
> 
>  **Warning** PTSD Triggering and violence in this chapter.

Bucky stood in front of the hall mirror in Brock’s apartment, straightening his tie as best as he could. His tongue stuck out from the side of his mouth in concentration as he fussed over the knot carefully. Brock had long since left the apartment for the day with his own plans, leaving Bucky behind to ready himself for the first real Thanksgiving he’d had in a very long time; needless to say, Bucky felt a little anxious, and quite a bit excited. He hadn’t had many holidays in the past couple of years, and the anticipation was starting to work him over.

Next to him, his phone buzzed to life with a call, and he glanced down at it; across the screen, Steve’s smiling face lit up the tiny device, and Bucky felt his heart melt a little. He plucked up the phone from the table and swiped to answer, pressing it between his ear and shoulder. “Hello, gorgeous. Are ya already here? I just got outta the shower, but gimme five minutes and I can have the water going again, if you wanna join me,” Bucky crooned, as smooth as silk.

He could hear Steve’s voice groan over the speaker and Bucky laughed. “ _Buck, you’re on speaker phone and my ma just heard you say that. She’s laughing so hard she can’t stir the potatoes!”_

Bucky grinned as he continued to fuss with his tie. “Ah, you didn’t leave your place yet. Good, ‘cause I’m still struggling to get this tie to look right. I think they sewed it purposefully to look stupid.”

Steve snorted over the phone again, which brought another smile to Bucky’s lips. _“Shuddup, I’m sure the tie looks fine. Wanna just walk over and meet me here? Ma’s not done with her stuff yet, but she should be by the time you get here. You can help us carry in the food at Tony’s house.”_

Bucky shifted the phone from his shoulder and held it to his ear. “Sure, I can be there in ten. Are you sure you didn’t need me to bring nothing?”

_“Nope. Ma’s got enough here to feed a circus, and Tony never fails in having Thanksgiving catered. There’ll be plenty. Just get over here, wouldja?”_

Bucky laughed; he gave up on the tie for the time being and grabbed his coat off the coat rack. “Yes, sir. I’ll see you in a bit.” Bucky paused, biting his lower lip as he stared at himself in the hall mirror. “Love you, Stevie…”

A pause echoed over the speakers, though to Bucky’s trained ear, it wasn’t in hesitation; he could actually hear Steve’s voice catch over the phone.

_“Love you too, Bucky… I’ll see you in a bit.”_

Bucky felt lighter than air to hear those words come from Steve. He beamed, brighter than the sun, and hung up to shrug himself into his coat. Once he was buttoned in, he grabbed for his hat and plopped it onto his carefully styled hair. The sky was heavy with snow, ready to let go at any moment. He didn’t want to ruin the hard work he’d put into making himself look presentable.

With a final glance in the mirror, Bucky left the apartment and locked the door behind himself before he descended the stairs quickly. The air outside the apartment was frigid, and wind whipped through the streets around him; Bucky shivered visibly from the cold and tucked himself further into his coat. His mind wandered back to Steve as he made the brief walk down the city blocks to get to his apartment; he knew, without a doubt, that if they were walking at any point, there was no way he was going to allow Steve to have to feel this icy cold cut of wind against him. No matter how hard he would fight it, Bucky was going to make damn sure that Steve got as much warmth from him as he could, even if he did look like a mothering old hen.

Bucky smirked to himself as he turned onto the final block that would take him to Steve’s apartment. Outside, he could see Sarah’s car idling at the curb, and a small relief washed over him. At least the heater in the car was already running.

He skipped up the stairs to the apartment building and let himself inside; down the hall, to the left, exactly as he remembered it. He rapted quietly on the door and waited patiently for someone to let him in. His hands slowly thawed in his pockets where they were stuffed, and he could feel the tip of his nose quickly gaining feeling back. God, he hoped Steve had a thick enough coat.

Sarah answered the door a few moments later; she smiled broadly at him, and stuffed a basket of bread rolls into his arms. “Right on time, Bucky! We’re heading out now. STEVE! Get the salad from the fridge, we’re leaving now!”

Clutching the basket of rolls, Bucky watched in amusement as Sarah and Steve bustled about their apartment, gathering last minute things for the party. “Uhh… anything I can do to help?” He asked, stifling a giggle at the sight of them rushing about in earnest.

“Just go open the car door!” Steve called, smiling over a large mixing bowl full of pasta salad as he carried it over to an even larger box to transport everything. Steve hadn’t been joking when he said his mother had had enough to feed an army. There was potato salad, pasta salad, rolls, green veggies, and two kinds of dessert to share at the party, and everything was in mass quantity. Bucky felt a little impressed with her skills.

“Gotcha. Me and the rolls will do good by you both!” Bucky said, chuckling as he left the apartment. Stepping back out into the cold, he approached the car and opened the doors just as Sarah and Steve left the building with their armloads of food.

Once everything had been tucked away the three of them piled into the car and took off, heading for Tony’s rather large house on the other side of Brooklyn. Christmas music was playing on the radio, and Bucky smiled as he allowed himself to soak up the atmosphere happily. He leaned over the car seat in front of him, and grinned down at Steve on the other side. “So who all is gonna be at the party?”

Steve smirked and flicked Bucky on the end of his nose, making the brunet yelp and lean backwards. “Gonna be pretty much the whole gang, actually. Tony’s hosting. Clint, Thor and Peggy are helping with whatever other foods they wanted to bring, and the Peter and Nat are showing up with the alcohol.”

Bucky’s smile faded away a little at the mention of Peter. Of course, Peter would be there, he thought in annoyance. “Uh-huh. I woulda thought Peter would be out clamming around this time…” he muttered, almost petulantly.

“Nonsense!” Sarah said, grinning at them. “I would have personally dragged his butt off of that boat, instead of having him miss a Thanksgiving with us! I swore to his mother that Peter would never miss out on a holiday, and I fully intend on keeping that promise. He already missed enough holidays while overseas!”

Bucky snorted, rolling his eyes slightly. “Pretty sure he had plentya chances to get some holiday fun in over there. NAVY’s got it easier than the ARMY, that’s for damn sure.”

Both Sarah and Steve went quiet as they looked back at Bucky. Sarah’s face had fallen from her jovial smile to a concerned frown, before she turned her attention back to the road. Steve cleared his throat, turning in his seat to look back at Bucky. “Peter spent the majority of his tours on the boat. He only saw port a few times.” He said quietly, trying not to get his mother’s attention. “Besides, holidays are real important to mom and Peter. Peter and I were friends as kids ‘cause our moms were friends. His ma died of cancer before we both graduated high school and his dad left when he was real little. Peter’s been like a second son to my mom since we were little kids, and more so since Meredith died…”

Bucky hesitated and bit his lower lip; a pang of guilt washed over him as he listened to Steve explain the situation. God, how rude could he possibly get, judging him like that without even asking? He offered up a weak smile, and nodded. “I’m sorry... I didn’t know.”

Steve smiled, shrugging a shoulder at him. “It’s okay. Just gives me something for me to tease you over from now on, that’s all,” he added with a smug grin.

Bucky scoffed and threw his glove at Steve’s head. “That’s mean, you can’t make fun of someone over somethin’ they didn’t know!”

“We’re here!” Sarah loudly exclaimed, catching their attention and cutting off their conversation as she parked. Bucky turned and glanced at the large house they were parked in front of, and his jaw dropped. House? More like a damn castle, that’s what he was looking at!

“Whoa! Big house!” he said, leaning against the door to get a good look at the mansion they were parked outside. The place was enormous, all white and chrome and glass fronts. He could see a massive Christmas tree in the front room window, and the lawn was large as it stretched in front of the house. In fact, it looked more like a futuristic smarthouse rather than a plain old mansion. Bucky honestly felt a little worried about touching anything inside there!

Steve snorted as he climbed from the car to grab one of the bowls of food. “Yeah, the Starks’ are kinda loaded. C’mon, stop staring and help us carry the food in!”

Bucky nodded, shaking himself from his surprise as he climbed out of the car. He grabbed the large box of foods from the trunk, insisting to Sarah that he could handle it, before following them to the front steps. He watched as Sarah rang the doorbell, standing protectively behind Steve to shield him from the icy wind around them; he felt a satisfied smile cross his lips as he watched Steve lean into his side for warmth.

A few moments later, the door swung open. On the other side stood Peter, sporting a sharp black sweater and a pair of dark blue jeans. He was almost clean shaven, save for the goatee he traditionally wore, and he had a bright red hickey on the side of his neck. “MAMA ROGERS!” he exclaimed, stepping back to let them into the house. Once the three of them were safely inside from the cold, Peter threw his arms around Sarah’s neck, pulling the smaller woman into a tight hug. “Happy Thanksgiving! Did you bring the candy apple salad?!”

Sarah laughed, hugging Peter tightly. Bucky watched the two of them interacting, and instantly understood what Steve meant; if he hadn’t known any different, he would have assumed they really _were_ related, with how close they were to each other. “I did yes, but you had better start talking about where you got _that_ from, Peter Quill, before you get any of it!” she teased, poking the hickey on the side of his neck playfully. “Do I have to ground you for that bruise, mister?”

“Nooo! That was a present from Nat,” Peter grinned, leaning in. “I asked her for some makeup to cover it, but she said she wanted to gross everyone out. I think the littlest vampire’s plan is working out.”

Sarah just chuckled, shrugging out of her coat before kissing Peter on the cheek. “Well, alright then. I guess you can have some candy apple salad then.”

“Aww yes.” Peter said, grinning a stupid grin, before grabbing Steve by the neck and ruffling his knuckles over his hair. “Happy Thanksgiving, squirt.”

Steve giggled, raking his fingers over Peter’s side to tickle him off of him. “Happy Thanksgiving, chunk.” he teased back before throwing his arms around his waist and giving Peter a hug. “Everyone already in the dining room?”

“Yeah, they’re just waiting on you guys. Champagne’s open if you want a glass.” Peter replied; he glanced up at Bucky and offered him a bright smile before extending his hand to him. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

Bucky stared at his extended hand for a moment before tentatively taking it. He carefully shook his hand before returning the sentiment to him. “Thank you… and you too.” He said, his voice quiet. His earlier guilt at being so callous towards Peter melted into full-blown shame for his negative attitude, and he lowered his gaze. As much as Peter’s quips and quirks pissed him off sometimes, and his wounded pride still stung from Peter’s blatant lack of respect for his privacy, Bucky couldn’t fault anyone for liking Peter. He was far friendlier and more charming than most people Bucky had met in his life, and he seemed to have quite the family of his own. In a small way, Bucky wished that he could be part of that tight-knit comfort, too…

“Hey, Bucky?” Steve’s voice cut in, shaking him from his thoughts. He looked down to see Steve staring up at him with a mask of concern on his features. He blinked, only noticing that he still hadn’t let go of Peter’s hand once he’d snapped back to himself. “Bucky… you okay?”

Bucky shook his head, smiling a little as he finally let go of Peter’s hand. He, too, was giving Bucky a concerned glance; Sarah had already left the foyer of the house, leaving them alone for the time being. Thank God… he didn’t want to have to deal with three people staring at him like he was crazy. “Yeah… yeah I’m good.” he replied, smiling at the two of them before shrugging. “Musta just zoned out. C’mon, let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

Peter and Steve glanced at each other for a moment before letting it for the time being; Bucky couldn’t have been more grateful for the two of them. At least they both knew when to drop the subject... “Okay, Bucky.” Steve replied; he reached up and grabbed Bucky’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together. He leaned into Bucky’s side, and Bucky immediately wrapped his arm around the smaller man’s shoulders. Comforted by Steve’s closeness, Bucky held tightly to him as the three of them wandered into the dining room, where everyone else was sitting and drinking already.

The room was beautifully decorated and festive, adorned with bits of evergreen and brightly lit candles. The dining room table was massive, big enough for a banquet, and covered in a bright red tablecloth. There were candles on the table, as well as dozens of different foods that made Bucky’s mouth water at the sight of it all. There was plenty of wine and champagne to go around, and everyone at the table was dressed up and chattering happily with each other. He watched as Peter broke away from their side to take his seat in between Sarah and Natasha. Natasha looked beautiful in her little red dress, and Bucky watched as Peter sat down next to her, planting a kiss on her cheek as he did so.

“Hey, Bucky!” Clint called from the other side of the table. He pointed to two chairs next to him, and he grinned. “We saved you two seats, best in the house!”

Bucky glanced over and a small smile crossed his lips. He nodded down at Steve, and the two of them wandered over to the other side of the room; Clint had picked a spot just opposite of Sarah and Peter’s chairs, so that Bucky and Steve would remain the center of attention for the majority of the meal. Bucky smirked to himself as he pulled Steve’s chair out for him. He watched the smaller man take his seat before gracing his own, and he scooted his chair closer to Steve’s once he’d done so. “Thanks. Anyone feel like passing me the wine?” Bucky asked, grinning down the row.

Tony’s girlfriend, Pepper, nodded as she grabbed a wine glass from the counter behind her. “White or red?”

“Red, please,” Bucky responded. He reached out and took the glass from her once she’d filled it, and he smiled in thanks. “Gonna have some wine, baby?” Bucky added, looking down at his boyfriend.

Steve shrugged, glancing at the bottles laid out behind them. “Uhhh… can I have champagne?”

“Of course you can, Steve,” Pepper replied, grinning as she poured him a small flute’s worth. “It’s only the best. Howard was kind enough to crack out his prized bottle for the occasion!”

“Hey Bucky! We made sure to make a few dishes that are egg-free for you!” another voice piped up. Bucky looked away from Pepper and Steve, in time to see Peggy entering the room carrying a large tray of green bean casserole. “Made this especially for you. Not a feather to be seen!”

Bucky flushed, grinning a little embarrassed as he took the tray from her. “You didn’t have to do that, Peggy…” he tried to argue with her.

Peggy just smiled down at him. “Consider this my apology letter for almost scaring you to death awhile back, alright?”

Bucky chuckled, raising his wine glass to her. “I’ll drink to that.”

Peggy winked down at him and patted him on the shoulder before slipping back around to her side of the table again. As she did, Bucky felt a hand on his knee, and he looked down to see Steve grinning up at him with a knowing look. “What?” Bucky asked, raising a brow at him. “What’s so funny that you’re grinnin’ at me like that for?”

Steve just shook his head and planted a kiss on Bucky’s cheek. “Nothin’... absolutely nothing.” Steve replied. “Just glad to see that you’re fitting in so well with everyone here. They all really like you.”

Bucky sighed as he let his eyes roam over the table around him. Everyone was laughing, joking, and enjoying the evening as food was divied up between plates and wine was poured; while most of the attention of the group around them was not on himself or Steve, Bucky just _felt_ it… that camaraderie, and the family ties that he’d been missing out on for the longest time. He wasn’t an outsider to these people. He had Steve at his side. _He had new friends_.

“I’m really glad they like me,” Bucky replied. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips, lingering for a moment before he pulled back. “But I’m most glad that you like me the best…”

“Aw shuddup,” Steve grumbled, blushing a deep cherry red as he ducked his head from prying eyes.

From across the table, a laugh could be heard, making Bucky look up from where he was staring fondly into Steve’s eyes. Natasha grinned at the brunet, before her voice carried over to them. “You made him blush at the dinner table. That’s a fine of exactly one crescent roll.” She reached over, holding her hand out to Bucky. “Pay up.”

“I’d do what she says, man. She’s very persuasive,” Peter quipped, winking at the two of them as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

Bucky chuckled and tossed her the crescent roll from the basket. “Good thing I can’t eat these anyway, otherwise that’d suck,” he beamed. But just as he did, he watched Peter chuck another roll at him, and he caught it with wide eyes. “Uhhh…”

Peter leaned over the table, beaming at him. “Egg-free. Sarah told me to make sure I brought something you could eat. It ain’t hand-made cause I can’t bake for shit, but I was promised at the health-food store, that these were delicious.”

Bucky stared at Peter for the longest moment; a warmth flooded his chest at the absolute sincerity he could read in Peter’s gaze, and he smiled at him, bright and grateful. “Thank you. I mean it… thank you.”

Peter just waved at him, pushing the small basket over towards Bucky. “What are friends for, right? You’re one of us now, so you better get used to it.”

Bucky beamed at him, taking a bit of the roll before he glanced down at Steve at his right. He threw his arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer to his side to press a kiss to his temple. “Yeah… I think I can get used to this...”

 

* * *

 

It was two days since their Thanksgiving feast, and the temperature had only plummeted further into low digit weather. Still, the day was bright and cheerful looking, and everyone had managed to gather a full day off from work and obligations to get some last minute Christmas shopping done before the real rush began.

Peter always liked winter. He liked the cold bite of the chilly air and the crisp whiteness of the snow on the ground around him. Sure, it meant that he was out of work until the snow broke, but he made enough money during the fishing season to get by; even if he was tight on money, Peter had connections with a few local shops that would give him short-term work to make bills. This year, he’d made a decent haul with his catch to get himself by for the holiday season, but he’d already signed on for temporary work at the local grocer’s market; he wasn’t ashamed to admit that his sole reason was to buy his new girlfriend as many gorgeous gifts that she could ever want. After careful deliberation with Peggy for advice, Peter had managed to gather a decent stack of gifts for Natasha to enjoy, and he was more than excited to see Natasha’s reaction when Christmas morning came in his tiny apartment.

Currently, Peter was protectively holding the last gift he had managed to find for her, as if his life depended on it. He glanced down at the bag in his hand and smiled as he thought of the delicate piece that was carefully wrapped up in paper and bubble wrap inside. Natasha had gushed to him on countless occasions how she adored Russian art and culture, even going on as to explain her family history and love of dance to Peter on many occasions since they had started dating. Once the two had become ‘official’, Peter had gone on the hunt to find her the best of the best in art pieces for her apartment. When he had stumbled upon a delicate glass recreation of Demetere Chiparus’ “Two Russian Dancers” that day, he’d forked over the bills in record time and tucked it away in his other purchases to hide from her.

With good timing too. Natasha had slipped into the shop right behind Peter the moment her new statue was wrapped and hidden away, and thrown her arms around his neck in a rare show of affection. Peter understood; Natasha wasn’t exactly showy of her feelings in public, but when they were alone, it was an entirely different side to her. Peter relished the moments when she was open about her feelings to him in public. When she had planted a kiss on his cheek and questioned what he was doing in the shop, Peter had simply replied that he was doing a bit of window-shopping for Sarah, and silenced her inquiry with a better kiss.

They had, shortly after, joined up with the rest of their friends to finish any other minor shopping they all needed to get done, and then spend the day at Prospect park, before they would all have to return to work or other business the following day. All in all, it had turned out to be a rather good day. With shopping under his belt, Peter had found time to spend with his best friend, after weeks of mostly separation. While Peter was completely supportive of Steve’s new relationship, he wouldn’t dare admit out loud that he did miss his best friend something fierce and getting to spend some time with him, even in a group setting was a happy treat for him; even after not seeing Steve regularly these days, the two had connected effortlessly once again, throwing quips and jokes about as if a day hadn’t gone by since they had last seen each other. Peter had even attempted to wrangle Bucky into their jokes and camaraderie, but was silenced with a few short remarks and moments of pressing silence from the brunet. Aside from those odd moments of distance, Peter was having one of the better days he’d had in a long time, and he happily clutched Natasha’s hand in his as the group wandered from the shop fronts into the park for the rest of their day.

With a cup of hot coffee in his hand, Peter leaned his elbows against the railing surrounding a small pond; he watched with delight as Tony and Clint lobbed snowballs at each other and cursing up a blue streak each time a snowball landed its target. At his side, he felt Natasha cuddle up to him and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer. With his significantly larger size, she was easily enveloped in his warmth, and she pressed her cheek to his chest with a contented sigh. “You getting cold there, sweetheart?” Peter asked, beaming down at her.

Natasha smirked and snatched his cup of coffee from his fingers. She took a delicate sip of the drink as Peter protested her theft, before handing it back to him with an innocent smile. “Now, I’m not,” she replied, smug as could be.

Peter scoffed down at her; he wrapped his arm around her waist as he hoisted her into the air. “That’s not fair, stealing from the poor!” Peter exclaimed, propping her up on the railing of the fence with a grin.

“All’s fair in love and war, dear,” Natasha retorted; she beamed down at him from where she was perched on the edge of the fence, and let her hands rest on his shoulders. “But, I think this might make up for it.” With that, she leaned down and pressed Peter into a tender kiss that lingered for a few moments longer than usual.

Peter melted into it; he liked the way the cold made both their lips chilly to the touch, and he tightened his grip around her waist. He broke away after a moment and offered her a pondering look. “I guess that helps. Though, I may have to return some of your gifts to make up for the deficit.” Natasha scoffed and punched his shoulder, making Peter wince good-naturedly. “Worth it,” he added, chuckling up at her before he stole a second kiss from her.

From somewhere to their right, a groan lifted up over the air. “Oh God, guys get a room before you get us all arrested for public indecency!”

Peter looked up to see Steve sticking his tongue out at them, wrapped safely in the cocoon of Bucky’s arms. Ever since Peter’s attempts at getting Bucky to join in on the fun, the two of them had been oddly quiet that day during their shopping trip; it made Peter feel a little better to see that Steve had finally spoken up. He didn’t really know why, but Bucky had continued to remain weirdly silent through the duration of their shopping trip and barely looked at any one of them, save for Steve, the entire day. In fact, as the day progressed and Peter had attempted to make conversation with Bucky or Steve multiple times, all he got in return from him was a death-glare or the cold shoulder. Peter had been immediately put on edge to see that cold attitude and the thousand-yard stare on Bucky’s features. He’d seen it plenty of times in the mirror himself even weeks after he had been sent home from China.

To see Steve at least responding to outside stimulus for the time being did put Peter’s worries to rest somewhat, and he replied with a bright grin. “Listen here, short-stop, I see you and Bucky suckin’ face all the time. What goes around, comes around!” With a laugh, Peter flicked a handful of snow in their direction, and watched with a satisfied smile as Steve and Bucky both ducked the onslaught.

However, Peter’s humor melted almost immediately the moment Bucky shot him the most venomous glare he’d seen in a very long time. Peter hedged, looking at Bucky for a long moment; he did not like the expression that was crossing Bucky’s face; he’d seen plenty of those looks from other veterans at the VA who felt cornered and uncomfortable around large groups. But if Bucky was going to see Sam at all, he should have been at least somewhat past this point. He should have been improving, if even marginally, since Peter had asked Sam to make room for Bucky in his program. If anything, Peter had only seen Bucky getting gradually worse since his arrival back to the States.

But before he could dwell on it any further, Peter felt a glob of wet snow zing past his ear and he ducked, dragging Natasha down with him; she yelped at the sudden attack and laughed loudly in his ear. Despite his worries for Bucky, Steve’s voice brought him back to the present, and he couldn’t help the smile that crossed his lips. “Oh yeah?!” Steve shot back, grinning as he broke away from Bucky’s arms. He picked up another handful of snow and threw it at Peter again. “You’ll really be laughing when I bill you for my therapy, chub-lord!”

Peter cackled, dropping down and scooping up a large handful of snow; he formed it into a ball and flung it across the field in retaliation. “Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?! Alright, lil’ man, we’ll see who gets the last laugh here!”

“Would you shut the _fuck up_ , Peter?!” Bucky snarled as he cut into their banter with a definite mask of anger on his face. He stepped in front of Steve, blocking him from Peter’s view as he glared at him from across the field. “Shut the fuck up! Stop fuckin’ makin’ fun of him and dickin’ around! It’s too Goddamn cold out for you to be whippin’ snow around at people like that!”

Peter jarred to a stop; his eyes widened as he stared at Bucky from across the field and a flicker of hurt bloomed in his chest at Bucky’s response. What the hell, they were just playing in the snow. They always did this! “Bucky... dude, chill out,” he replied, holding his hands up. Whatever this was, clearly Bucky was having a bad day. Almost instantly, his chest went heavy with disappointment, and his eyes flickered to Steve. Oddly enough, even Steve looked shocked by Bucky’s outburst; he was attempting to get Bucky’s attention back on himself to stop this argument before it got out of hand. Peter watched as Steve cupped Bucky’s cheek in his hands, trying to get his eyes back on him, quietly begging Bucky to just leave, before things got out of hand. Usually this worked; this time, Bucky ignored Steve completely, in favor of glaring at Peter. This wasn’t right… something was definitely wrong with Bucky, Peter could just feel it in his bones. “We’re just playin’, bro. There’s no need to get upset.”

At his right, Peter felt Natasha step up to his side and wrap her arm around his elbow. “The hell is your problem, Bucky?” Natasha asked. Her voice was laced with irritation as she shot a dark look at him from across the way, her arms crossed over her chest. “You’ve been quiet and didn’t let Steve get a word in edgewise with anyone all damn day. They’re just playing around, now drop the shitty attitude!”

Bucky shot her an equally dark look, his hand reaching down to grab Steve’s. Peter’s eyes flickered immediately to where his fingers were linked, and he felt his concern ramp up a bit in his chest at the sight of Bucky’s grip tightening around the smaller man’s wrist. “Funny, comin’ from the chick that can’t hold a ten-second conversation without judgin’ em. Miss high and mighty, datin' a guy that can’t have the balls to ask you out himself!” Bucky snapped in return.

“Whoa! Hey! That’s enough!” Peter growled; his earlier worries began to bubble into anger at this unnecessary argument. “Dude, seriously. If you’re havin’ an off day, then just take a step back and breathe. You don’t have to take it out on everyone else!”

From the other side of the park, the unmistakeable sound of a loud ‘crack!’ could be heard as it echoed across the snowy fields. Peter recognized it as a low-grade firework explosion, and he groaned. Great, teenagers again. Just what they needed right now. He flickered his gaze back to Bucky, and he glanced into his face in an attempt to read his emotions. If Bucky was having some sort of episode, he wanted to make sure that he cut it off before it got further out of control; Peter didn’t want anyone getting hurt if he could help it. “Bucky… just breathe, man. It’s just a stupid fight. If you want me to lay off, I will, alright? Just relax...” He moved to step back, his own hand lacing with Natasha’s as he prepared to pull the irate red-head out of the argument before it got worse.

“What’s all the hullabaloo about?” Peggy’s voice came, startling them from their thoughts. She had managed to march into the fields from the nearest road, her arms wrapped around her waist as she trudged through the shin-deep snow towards them. “Is everything alright? I just was going to say there’s a whole fleet of teenagers coming this way. Clint, Tony and I already carried the bags to the car before they got here. They’re still over there waiting for us; we should head back before those kids commandeer the park.”

Another firecracker went off in the distance, and Peter ripped his gaze from Peggy back to Bucky. He saw the brunet’s hand tighten around Steve’s wrist even further, and a thrill of adrenaline filled up his chest. Steve was squirming in Bucky’s grip, and looked obviously pained by the clutch around his thin wrist. “Bucky…" 

“Ow! Bucky let go, that hurts.” Steve growled, plucking at Bucky’s fingers to try and get him to let go. This action only seemed to aggravate Bucky further, and his face further paled around the darkening orbs of grey-blue. Bucky was visibly beginning to tense where he stood and trembled in his spot; he looked like he was getting ready to flee or fight, and knowing Bucky’s temper, Peter was pretty sure he knew which one would come first.

Peter felt his heart hammer wildly in his chest, and an icy chill of dread ran down his spine until he too was trembling in his spot. _’Shit… no, no, no...’_ he thought to himself in growing panic. He recognized this. That wasn’t a good sign; if Bucky had already been irritated that day, those fireworks were only going to set him off further. He could see, even from this distance, that Bucky was starting to slip into some flashback to the war brought on by his anger and the explosions across the field. Peter stepped forward protectively; he held his hand back to Peggy and Natasha and threw a glance at them over his shoulder that said only one thing: _‘stay back’_.

“Buck…” Peter murmured, inching closer to the two of them. Behind him, he could hear Natasha and Peggy growing anxious as they looked at the trembling brunet across the field that still clutched Steve’s wrist in a vice-like grip, determined not to let him go. “Bucky, listen to me. Let’s just get outta here, alright?” His voice had taken on a more soothing, calming tone. Fuck his earlier irritation, he could hash out this sudden temper flare-up with Bucky when they were in a safer environment. Right now, all Peter wanted was to get Steve out of his grip before Bucky slipped further into whatever memory he was having. “Bucky… I know you can hear me, man. C’mon… let’s go home okay?”

Steve hissed loudly; he tried to wrench his wrist out of Bucky’s grip again. “Bucky! Let _go_ of me, Buck!”

Peter held his hand out to Steve; he tried to convey through his eyes that Steve needed to stay calm at that moment. Struggling in his grip was only going to set Bucky off even further; _fuck_ he hoped Steve could understand what he was trying to tell him... “Steve… stop movin’. Just stop, okay? It’s all okay, just… relax lil’ man.”

“I SAID STOP FUCKING CALLING HIM THAT!” Bucky bellowed; his furious scream echoed across the fields in a shout that made Peter’s hair stand on end.

Just then, a firework went askew across the field. It flew a few dozen feet just behind Bucky and Steve, whistling violently in the air before it erupted in the trees to their left.

The explosion rocked the field around them, making the girls scream behind Peter. Instantly, all the adrenaline in Peter’s body went into overdrive as he looked back at Bucky. Just as he did, he saw the brunet throw his hand forward, screaming in a gut-wrenching mix of fear and fury; he hurled Steve from his grip, and Peter watched in horror as Steve went tumbling into the snow in front of him. “STEVE!” Peter shouted, lunging forward; he grabbed Steve by the shoulders and helped the terrified man up to his feet, not a second too soon.

Bucky had lunged forward, fist balled up and ready to strike the first thing he came in contact with. Peter watched as Bucky charged the two of them, and he felt his heart going to ice in his chest as every ounce of training he’d had in his past came barreling into the forefront of his mind. His limbs went numb as he threw himself into the fray, ready to absorb the brunt of this new threat’s presence before Bucky could hurt a single hair on Steve’s head. His eyes darted across the field, looking for something to neutralize the situation before it got worse; there was nothing, nothing but his own rage fueling the brunet’s outburst further. That firework had done it; whatever flashback Bucky had been having during their argument had pushed him into a full-blown episode, and he was about to attack the first thing that came in his path.

That first thing was Steve.

 _“Fuck!”_ Peter hissed. He grabbed Steve by the shoulders and wrenched him back from Bucky’s figure; he put himself between the two of them just a Bucky’s fist came down in a violent, hard arch. Peter heard the sickening sound of knuckles connecting with bone, and a violent bloom of pain sprouted across his face. Peter stumbled; half of his face felt like it was on fire from the force of Bucky’s punch cracking into his cheek-bone just below his right eye.

Behind him, Peter heard another scream as Peggy and Natasha looked on in shock. He could feel his heart racing to life in his chest and he looked up to see Bucky standing over him; his fingers were flexing dangerously at his sides and he raised his fist again, bringing it down on Peter’s head with shocking force. He grunted in pain and dropped down to his knee; but just as he did, he shoved Steve back from the fray, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Get the fuck back!” he hissed around a mouthful of blood; somehow he had bitten clean through his lower lip, and only just now the pain was starting to make itself known in his mouth.

He saw the fear burning in Steve’s eyes, and instantly every protective instinct in Peter’s body came to life. He threw Steve farther back from the two of them just as Bucky punched him again, throwing him to the ground. He landed in a shallow drift of snow next to the fences; every nerve in his face was firing off in pain as Bucky’s fist connected with his face again… and again.. and again. Steve’s terrified scream filled the air around them, and he looked up in between blows to see Steve struggling against the hands holding him back; Peter hated this. Steve looked ready to burst into tears as he watched in horror as Bucky laid into him without remorse.

“PETER! PETER, PLEASE LET ME GO I GOTTA HELP!” Steve begged, twisting in Natasha and Peggy’s grip. Behind him, the two girls watched, frozen in place as they held Steve back from joining in and possibly getting killed in the attack. Their faces… they were so fucking pale...

Another blow landed, and Peter could feel his head swimming with vertigo as that last punch dizzied him in his spot. “Bucky!” Peter shouted; he winced in pain as he looked up at the furious figure standing over him. He opened his mouth to call out to him, to try and bring him back to his senses, when a sharp kick to his stomach had him doubling up with a hacking cough. He dropped down to his knees, arms wrapped around his middle as he looked up at him. His right eye was gradually swelling up from the repeated impacts, and he heaved for breath around a bruised diaphragm. “Bucky! Listen to me! You’re in New York. You’re safe, everyone’s here! Nothing’s comin’ after you! I swear it!”

Bucky only screamed in non-verbal rage, throwing his fists into Peter’s head again as he punched him down to the ground. Peter shouted, feeling his body fighting against his senses, to flee, to get the fuck away from this attack as Bucky laid into him. His vision caught the sight of bright red flecking the soothing, icy snow beneath him. How odd, to think that lying in the snow was the only soothing comfort he felt as his body alit with agony; the cold felt good to the touch, grounding him in this moment as he curled in away from Bucky’s hits.

But just as Peter extended his hand to him, to get Bucky to stop, please _just stop_ , Bucky had chosen then to kick out with the tip of an industrial boot and connected with his outstretched fingers. Peter screamed in pain as that boot caught his fingers and wrist, wrenching his hand back with a sharp snap.  By then, every flight instinct in Peter’s body was screaming at him and for the briefest of moments, he saw the butt end of a rifle connecting with his temple as men he didn’t know yelled over him in a foreign language.

But this was not the time for his own break-down. Bucky was suffering. He was suffering for it. He had to get Bucky out of his blackout before he hurt someone else.

With a loud grunt of pain, Peter tried to get to his feet; he had made it about halfway to his knees before Bucky kicked out at him, connecting with his stomach again. A roll of nauseous pain shot through Peter as he crumpled to the ground and gagged around the ache in his gut. Vaguely, he could hear screaming behind him. Vaguely he heard Peggy and Natasha shouting for him, sounding far more terrified than he’d heard anyone sounding in his whole life. He wondered, in a brief and wild moment, where Clint and Tony were. Had they abandoned him? Had they just fucking _left?_ They wouldn’t do that to him… they were his friends...

He struggled to breathe; a boot kicked out, catching him in the ribs and he felt the obvious sharp ‘snap’ of something cracking in his side. He wheezed out, too winded to scream in pain as he dropped to the snow beneath him. He didn’t know how much blood was running down his face, but all he could smell was copper in his nostrils; all he could taste was pennies in his mouth.

To his right, Peter could hear the scuffling of feet, and he looked up through the red haze of his pain. He could see Steve struggling in the snow, with Natasha holding him back. She had her arms wrapped around his waist, while Peggy stood in front of him, forcing him to stand back; their voices fought for dominance in the cold air around them, as Peggy and Natasha shouted for Steve to stop fighting them; he’d do them no good if he got hurt, too. Peter could barely make out Steve’s voice as he begged for Bucky to let him up, and begged Peggy to let him go. Peter knew Steve would only throw himself into the fight if he needed to, and God he knew Steve wouldn’t hesitate; like hell would he let Steve fight this fight for him. He shouted at Steve, begging him to stand back, to stay the fuck back; he struggled to sit up. He needed to go to his friend’s side and tell him it would all be okay. Peter called for Steve again and again, hoping beyond hope that Natasha and Peggy could keep him back, keep him _safe_. Behind them, Peter caught sight of two people running across the fields, their voices echoing over the distance as they raced towards the fight. He couldn’t tell who it was… he just hoped it was help coming at long last, help that would keep Steve from throwing himself into this mess...

He collapsed to his side, only to find a boot kicking him in the sternum with vicious force. A second crack resonated through him, followed by an unbelievably blinding wave of pain in his chest. Peter choked and tried to roll away from the onslaught. Bucky’s heel drilled into him, crushing his chest further; but it was enough leverage, at least for the time being. He wrapped his hands around his ankle and he wrenched Bucky’s foot out from under him. It did little good, but it got his foot off of his chest for the moment, allowing him a chance to try and breathe.

Above him, he saw a flurry of shadow and he felt the weight of a body dropping down onto his stomach. Bucky was straddling his stomach. Peter cried out, grabbing for the wrists he saw raising up above his head. Deep down, he knew that if he let Bucky go now, he’d just turn on the terrified trio to their right and attack them all; like hell would he let Bucky attack Steve or Peggy. Like _fucking hell_ would he let Bucky lay a finger on Natasha. “BUCKY!” Peter wheezed out around a mouthful of copper. “LISTEN TO ME! You’re in New York! You’re safe! The war’s over, Bucky! BUCKY LISTEN TO ME!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, QUILL!” Bucky shouted in his face; a cold and sickening dread filled Peter’s chest as he heard his name called. No… no this was all wrong. Bucky knew what he was doing… this wasn’t a flashback anymore. This was personal, and that realization dropped like a heavy weight on Peter’s heart. Bucky wasn’t fighting back against his demons; Bucky was trying to kill him.

With a shout of fury, Bucky wrenched his fists free from Peter’s weak grip. With nowhere to go Peter saw, with what little vision he had left, as Bucky raised his fists and began to pummel his face and neck, jabbing for killing blows with each downward arch of his fists. Peter raised his arms in front of his face, knowing full-well he’d lost the fight. Had he defended himself sooner, he could have possibly disarmed Bucky long before this; he had been too concerned with getting Steve away from Bucky before he got hurt. He knew, with frightening certainty that if Bucky had laid even one of those punches on Steve, he could have very well killed him. So with agonizing resignation, Peter laid back and crossed his broken wrist over his face to try and shield himself from the blows that he knew were not stopping anytime soon. He’d gladly take this beating, if it got it out of Bucky’s system before he laid a finger on anyone else, least of all Steve.

The air around him was filled with the solid sound of knuckles to flesh, and his ears were beginning to ring with his dizzying assault. He felt his head swimming with each blow landed on his face, and his legs kicked out uselessly in the snow behind Bucky’s hips. He gagged heavily on the blood in his mouth; he could barely see anything, but Bucky’s furious face above his as he whaled on him with no end in sight. Briefly, Peter wondered if he was really going to die, and a surge of panic ran through him making his skin prickle with nerves and the bone-crushing ache that assaulted his face. He felt his nose running freely, and the snow next to his right ear was beginning to warm with what he could only assume was his blood. Natasha’s voice echoed over the snowy field like a little bell, catching his attention. She was screaming, shouting… begging Bucky to stop. He couldn’t stop him; he wanted to stop him for her, just to get her to stop screaming, stop crying like that, Natasha wasn’t supposed to cry, ever!

Ragged breathing was filling the air around them both, but Peter couldn’t tell whose it was anymore; his own as he struggled to breathe around the intense pain in his chest, or Bucky’s as he beat his aggressions out on the only figure that had stepped up to him. He was beginning to black out. His arms went limp at his sides; his head whipped side to side with each punch, each blow that cracked his cheek-bone further still. He was blacking out. Natasha was going to watch him die. Steve was going to watch in horror as his boyfriend killed someone in a PTSD-induced rage. This wasn't how this was supposed to go…

Just as Peter teetered on the edge of consciousness, he heard a second set of voices echoing across the field this time much closer; these were definitely male. Suddenly, Peter heard the sound of bodies connecting and the heavy weight on his chest was suddenly lifted with blinding speed. He heard the sound of people hitting the ground, and a rageful scream fill the air. Someone had physically tackled Bucky off of him, and the weight that had been lifted from him allowed his chest to expand. He gasped for air, the sound choked and ragged as he struggled to sit up. His head swam with the action; his vision was filled with the muted tones of gray and white. His head was jarred about too much to focus on anything in particular, and he barely felt the pain lacing up his arm as he put pressure on his broken hand and fingers.

His fearful adrenaline was making him desperate to move, desperate to get out of there; he wanted to check on Steve. Steve, was Steve okay… Oh God, was Natasha okay? Had Bucky touched her? Where the fuck was he, why the _fuck_ was he so Goddamn _cold_?!

“St-eeve…” he gasped, unable to take a deep breath. God, was that his voice? He couldn’t speak, why the fuck couldn’t he speak? He tried to breath in; only the sound of a deep-chested rattle could be heard. He couldn’t get any air in his lungs. _He couldn’t fucking breathe. Why the fuck couldn’t he breathe?!_ Peter struggled to get to his feet, but the lack of oxygen in his lungs made him dizzy and he fumbled backwards into the snow; he began to panic, choking on his own lungs, aspirating blood into his throat. He settled into a full-blown panic attack that made his already gray vision blacken at the edges and his fingers scrambled in the snow beneath him for something, anything to get him up.

His heart hammered in his chest and every ounce of pain he had stifled back in the midst of his beating washed over him, making him cry out in a choked-off shriek of agony. This was that pirate ship all over again. Only this time he couldn’t breathe, fuck he was drowning, he was _fucking drowning!!_

“Nat… Nat! Steve! A-are they ok-kay.. are they alright?!” He didn’t really know who he was asking at this point; like a tidal wave of anesthetic, his panic and terror quite suddenly made him feel numb all over, until his skin was icy to the touch. The only warmth he felt was the sticky red wetness running down his cheeks and chin, and the bright red flower of pain in his chest that was only growing with each, desperate breath of air he tried to take. “Wh-ere are they… get them.. outta here… Bucky-”

Suddenly, Peter felt hands on his shoulders, hoisting him up. He choked on a scream as he was struggled to his feet. His knees threatened to give out beneath him, but the feeling of bodies supporting his own had him teetering dangerously in the snow. He opened his eyes, and all he saw was a bright red splash on the whiteness around him. God, there was so much fucking blood everywhere. Was that Natasha’s blood? He tried to breathe again, only to feel his chest clenching violently at the attempt, and he doubled up, choking up a splatter of blood from his ripped lip onto the ground in front of him. Oh… it was his blood. A second round of whooping cough rattled his chest, making tears of pain stream down his cheeks as he clutched at his throbbing sternum. He’d almost drowned before. This was nothing like that. Something was so, so fucking wrong with him...

“Fuck! Fuckin’ shit, he can’t breathe!”

Peter heard a desperate voice wail next to him. He turned his head, looking through a sea of flickering black and white, only to see Steve standing in front of him; he was sobbing near uncontrollably, with his thin hands pressed to his chest to try and hold him up. He heard a shuddering, sobbing cry of a girl’s voice next to him and he turned further, slumping into the body next to him. He saw a shock of red hair, and Natasha holding him up; she, too, was crying openly as she attempted to support his dead-weight on her shoulder.

“Peter! Peter, look at me!” Natasha was begging him. He could barely see her face, but what he could make out, made Peter’s stomach clench up in worry. She looked so unhappy, God he’d never seen her cry like this before. What was he going to do to get that pretty smile back on her face... “Peter, breathe! Just breathe, baby! We’re gonna get you outta here… just breathe…” Natasha begged him; her fingers trembled as they coaxed the dazed and wounded man to look at her. Peter tried, he really did, to look her in the eye, but his head was spinning, he couldn’t breathe, he was dying… Natasha broke into another ugly sob, her face screwed up in distress and splotchy tears as she brushed blood from his face. Her pale fingers were coated in it, and Peter wished this whole day had never happened. “Oh my fucking God, Peter…!”

Suddenly, a third set of hands found his free shoulder, and an authoritative voice echoed over the field to bring them to silence. “Quick! Get him to the car! He needs a doctor right now!” This voice was most definitely British, and Peter felt a lull of comfort wash over him. Peggy… Peggy would know what to do. Peggy had always been there for Peter, when he needed her. When his mom died, when he’d come home from China, dreaming of men trying to kill him and dump his body in the sea to be forgotten and screaming in the night, countless times. Peggy always took care of them.

“G-get the Co-corpsman..” Peter choked through his daze of confusion, struggling to keep his feet beneath him. He felt the ground swaying out from under him, and all at once he was back out on the ocean, working hours of hard labor far from home. Jesus Christ, he just wanted to go home. Three sets of hands held him up as he slumped forward, and he snapped back to the present, to the unbelievable pain in his chest, in his head, fuck he just wanted to die... “Just need… cot… Is Bucky okay? Is anyone hurt?”

“PETER! Don’t talk!” Peggy’s voice cut in, making him look up at her. Christ, was everyone crying? He’d only seen Peggy cry once before, and he’d never wanted to see his other best friend like that ever again. Peggy Carter didn’t deserve to fucking cry in her life. She was too perfect, too sweet and too strong to cry, and here he was making her bawl right there. Peter felt a stab of guilt in his already aching chest, but exhaustion, confusion, and delirium kept him unsteady on his feet, unable to walk this off, sailor, _walk it off!_

Of the three of them surrounding him, Peggy had her tear-streaked face right in his; her hands were cupping his cheeks, and he could feel the odd stickiness of the blood on his skin smearing across her palm. “Look at me! We’re taking you to a doctor right now, bollocks on everyone else! FOCUS ON ME!” She pulled away long enough to glance to his right, looking to Nat and Steve before hitching a breath as she tried to get herself back under control. “Get him to the car! Now!” With her orders given, Peggy leaned in, wrapping her arm around Peter’s side to support him, and God did nothing ever feel so sweet in his life.

Peter nodded aimlessly though the action only made his head swim dangerously. He slumped forward and the hands on his arms only held him up just barely. His eyes darted across the cold field, where he saw three people hunched up in the snow. Two people were holding a third person down, and the person on his back was lying as still as death, breathing heavily as he slumped in the snow. It took Peter a moment to realize that it was Bucky on the ground, and he was finally coming out of his outburst, looking just as confused and scared as he himself felt. Peter inhaled sharply; this only caused him to double up again, screaming through a clenched chest, unable to get enough oxygen into his lungs to utter a shout louder than a hoarse whisper. “L-let him.. let him up! He’s c-comin’ outta it, let him up!” he begged, his eyes flicking to Clint as he pleaded him to let Bucky go. It wasn’t Bucky’s fault… none of this was anyone’s fault but that fucking war, goddammit. 

“Are you fuckin’ outta your MIND?! So he can KILL YOUR FUCKIN’ ASS?!” Clint shouted. It stunned Peter to realize that of all the people there, the last person he had expected to sound distraught at all, was Clint. The man sounded like he was ready to cry right there in his spot. How fuckin’ bad was he _hurt?!_  “I ain’t lettin’ him up at all, you’re fuckin’ crazy if you think I’m gonna let him touch you again!”

Peter tried to break out of their grip, he really did. No one here understood what Bucky was going through, no one but him. He had to help Bucky, he fucking had to help Bucky... But the moment he’d managed to get one arm free, his body traitorously fought against him and he slumped down to one knee with a huff of misery. His vision was filling with static again, and the struggle to inhale any sort of breath at all was weighing him down. The longer he went without air, the more panicked he became, the heavier his limbs became until they were concrete weights at his side. He clawed at his throat with his good hand, anything to open up his throat get some fucking AIR IN HIM! _“Fuckin’.. can’t breathe… fuckin’ chest..!_ ” he gasped, feeling his head lull forward as his strength waned from him inch by inch.

“Tony! We need your help!” Steve shouted, whirling away from Peter to motion for Tony to get up. Peter vaguely saw his friend get to his feet and rush over to the group, but he couldn’t be sure if that was true. He couldn’t see anything anymore. Was he dreaming? He was going to wake up in Nat’s bed, curled up around her, yeah that’s right.. this was just a bad dream. Just a dream..

He was blacking out again. The ground was starting to turn to marshmallow beneath his feet, his chest fucking hurt… He began to tremble in their grips, slumping forward as a fourth and final set of hands held him up. He could hear talking all around him, could feel his feet being dragged across the ground. His eyes caught sight of the bag he had been carrying; it had been discarded and kicked around until it had been trampled in the assault, the paper torn and shredded, flecked with tiny drops of red, and bubble wrap blowing across the snowy field. He caught sight of a piece of broken glass glinting in the sunlight, and he recognized it as Natasha’s gift. It had been shattered in the attack.

He tried to apologize to Nat for her broken present. He tried to say anything, to tell his friends he’d be fine, to check on Bucky, to make sure Steve was okay. He couldn’t speak at all. Instead, he felt himself hoisted into the backseat of a car (how the fuck had he gotten across the field already), where he slumped bonelessly into the cushion beneath him. The last thing he remembered, was seeing Natasha staring down at him as she held his head in her lap, stroking his brow and talking to him in low, sobbing tones as she cried over his stupid, bumbling self (how the fuck had he gotten so lucky with her, God she was beautiful, like a fuckin’ angel...). The last thing he felt was Steve’s thin hand wrapped around his own and shaking violently, clutching tightly to him as his voice lulled over him in a panicked rumble, begging Peter to stay awake, stay focused, _look at me, Peter LOOK AT ME_.

Then, he knew nothing else.

 

* * *

 

All around him, explosions lit up the skies, rocking the earth beneath his feet. He could hear terrified screams, shouts of pain, people dying… the sun was beating down on him like a fiery ball of torment, heating his skin until he could crawl out of his body and shout for mercy. He hated the heat, hated it so fucking much. He blinked, shaking himself as his mind raced. Heat… snow… ice… wait.. this wasn’t Iraq. He remembered this… in a dream? Fuck him, he was remembering a dream. There was no death or fire or explosions. It was just a dream… it was just a few hours ago… just a bad dream.

Mercifully, he snapped back into himself, blinking up at the bleary clouds above him. Snow fell on his face and dotted his overheated skin. Bucky stared up at the sky, dazed and confused. He had a heavy weight on his chest and arms and he couldn’t move. What the hell… why the hell was he laying on the ground? He shook his head for a moment, trying to get his bearings about himself. It took him a minute to realize that he was being pinned down by a set of hands; he could hear shouting in the distance as it was growing steadily more distant, and instantly a sense of dread filled him. He could remember seeing splashes of red, feel his fists drilling into flesh… he saw a shock of light brown hair in front of him, could hear a voice screaming at him that he was safe, that he was in New York… but that didn’t seem right. Why would someone be telling him that _he_ was safe when he was the one beating someone into the ground?

HIs stomach clenched up as he realized he knew what had happened. He’d beaten someone down. He’d attacked someone. God his knuckles fucking hurt. He remembered hearing a name…. but it wasn’t Steve’s and it was in his own voice…

“Goddammit…” he gasped, shaking beneath the weight of hands pinning him down and he twisted beneath their grip. “Christ, let me up… the hell happened?”

“Fuck off!” he heard a voice shout right in his ear. Bucky blinked, looking away from his speck of sky into a pair of angry blue eyes shrouded in a wreath of sandy hair. Clint. Clint was holding him down. “Fuck off! I’m not lettin’ you fuckin’ up, you hear me?! You fuckin’ lay right there, man!”

“What the shit!” Bucky cried, staring up at him as he twisted in his grip. “Clint, let me up! What the hell happened?!”

“Fuck you, you know what you did, you piece of shit! Don’t play stupid with me!”

“Is the murderous beast awake?” A second voice echoed over the field. Bucky looked away from Clint in time to see Tony approaching them. Bucky’s face fell in worry and he went still beneath Clint’s grip. “I see he’s got his head about him again. The fuck is he goin’ on about, asking what the hell happened?”

“Murderous… the hell you guys talkin’ about?” Bucky asked; his voice was weak and tight, and his limbs were beginning to shake. It wasn’t from the cold of the snow. His head was so jumbled up, so confused he couldn’t string together a coherent thought. He could remember beating someone down into the snow, but he couldn’t understand why, nor how it connected with the name Quill in his mind. But from the looks he was getting from the two of them, Bucky was starting to get an idea, and that terror began to chew at his insides until his heart ramped up tenfold in his chest, beating wildly in his ribcage like a frightened bird. “Steve… where’s Steve? Is he alright?!”

“Figures that’d be the first thing you’d be so worried about, you nutcase!” Clint barked, glaring down at him. His fingers tightened around Bucky’s arms, making the brunet cry out at the pressure. “The total lack of care for Peter right now speaks for itself. You’re a Goddamn psychopath, you know that?!”

Bucky stared up at him, breathing heavily through his nose. Peter… something happened to Peter. His knuckles were throbbing viciously now, and he groaned. He dug his hands into the snow beneath him, hoping for some relief for his aching hands; the ice cooled his overheated skin, and he groaned. “What… happened to Peter?” God, he sounded like a child, so quiet… so scared. Deep down, Bucky knew what they were saying... he just didn’t want to hear it, as much as he knew he had to.

“Clint… let him up.” Tony said; his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at the increasingly more terrified brunet in front of him; his brown eyes were cold and callous, offering up no comfort to Bucky’s panic. “Let him up.”

Clint glared down at Bucky for a long moment before jarring away from him; he shoved Bucky further into the snow before standing himself. The two squared off, glaring down at Bucky as he slowly sat up, taking in his surroundings. “You got about thirty seconds before I start beating _your_ damn head in like you did with Peter. So fuckin’ talk, Barnes.” HIs threat was not unfounded; the only reason Clint wasn’t on top of Bucky again, was because Tony was holding him back. Bucky knew this.

But… hearing it confirmed, Bucky didn’t want to look behind them. He didn’t want to look at the field around them… if he did, it was real. Piece by piece, Bucky’s thoughts came back to him, and his mind’s eye became clearer and clearer as he remembered… he _remembered…_

Peter screaming in his face, begging Bucky to come back to them. Bucky’s fists breaking Peter’s face in repeatedly. Bucky’s boots connecting with unprotected stomach and chest. The sound of bones breaking. The sight of bright red blood on the snow. Steve screaming for Bucky to stop. The terrified sobbing. His own unyielding fury… his murderous intent.

He was trying to kill Peter. He had been _disappointed_ for the briefest of momentsbecause Peter was still alive. The crushing weight of reality dropping back down on his head like an anvil, his lungs inhaling ice cold air as he crashed back into himself, like he’d had some satanic out-of-body experience.

Bucky inhaled, feeling his chest quaking as he looked behind Clint and Tony. He gasped, his eyes bulging out of his head as he saw the bright red blood on the snow behind them. The snow was kicked out, as if there had been a scuffle, and his eyes landed on the shiny shard of a piece of glass lying in the snow. Instantly, his heart slammed to a halt in his chest as he saw the glass, and he swallowed. “Did… did I…” he choked on his own words, praying to God above that he hadn’t actually killed Peter.

“No, thank everyone else’s God, you didn’t.’ Tony snapped. Bucky flinched as he got to his feet, shakily and slowly, as if he was afraid he’d fall over. Tony snarled, barking a laugh in his face. “ _Now_ you’re gonna play the weak card on us? Maybe I shoulda’ let Clint break your damn face in himself.”

“Guys!” Bucky exclaimed, looking between them. Now his legs were really shaking, as if he were really about to tumble back down into the snow beneath him. “I don’t... I don’t know what the fuck happened. I swear to God, I don’t fuckin’ know!”

‘Bullshit!” Clint shouted, ganging right up into Bucky’s face. He jabbed a finger into Bucky’s chest, shoving him backwards. “Bullshit you don’t know what the fuck you were doin’! You knew damn well enough to know you were trying to kill Peter! We could hear you! You were screamin’ his name in his face while you were bustin’ it in! Wha the fuck did he do to you other than what we all tried to do, be your goddamn friend!  NATASHA HAD TO WATCH YOU TRY TO MURDER HER BOYFRIEND IN FRONT OF HER. WE TRUSTED YOU, YOU PSYCHO!” Clint screamed, shoving Bucky backwards again.

Bucky stumbled, nearly falling flat on his ass as he stared at the two of them. He looked up in time to see Tony and Clint baring down on him, their fists curled at their sides as if they were about to unleash atonement for Peter’s hurt onto him themselves. Bucky threw his hands out to them, to stop them, and his eyes landed on his knuckles; they were split and cracked, bleeding heavily and darkening into bright purple bruises and swollen. Bucky stared at his knuckles long and hard, his eyes stinging sharply; his breathing picked up desperate and ragged, and he watched his hands trembling violently in front of his eyes. “What the…” he choked; he scrubbed his palms over his knuckles as if he could wipe away the evidence of what he’d done from them. This only smeared his own blood across his hands further, and he shook his head, shoving his hands down from his sight.

Tony and Clint were staring at him; equal masks of anger and betrayal painted their features, and honestly, Bucky couldn’t blame them. But.. he couldn’t stay there. He couldn’t try to talk his way out of this one because there was nothing to talk out. He’d done this. He’d attacked Peter, probably trying to attack Steve… this was all his fault. He had to.. he had to get away. He couldn’t fucking be here! “I… I don’t… I didn’t..” he stammered loudly, shaking his head like a rattle to shake his thoughts loose.

“Fuck you.” Tony hissed, shoving Bucky back once again. This time, Bucky did tumble backwards into the snow, and Tony sneered down at him as he loomed over his figure. “Get the fuck out of here. I don’t want to see your damn face around here again. You stay the hell away from Steve and Peter. You stay the fuck away from Natasha and Peggy, or I swear to God, Clint and I are gonna kick your fuckin’ ass back to Iraq where you belong. We tried to welcome you into our lives, Peter especially because he fuckin’ knows what you went through. And this is how you repaid him? You’re sick. Get the hell out of my sight!”

Clint spat at Bucky, kicking snow in his direction. Bucky ducked his head, shielding his eyes from cold particles as Tony and Clint turned and stormed out of the field, leaving him alone. Bucky looked up and stared after them, feeling like his heart had shriveled up and rotted away in his chest; if he could sink into the ground and disappear, he would have gladly allowed the snowy field to swallow him up and consume him, bones and all.

Bucky dropped his gaze and stared at the ground in front of him, unable to look up at all. All at once, his mind went into overdrive, replaying everything that had just happened in crystal clarity, moment by gruesome moment. Bucky’s stomach turned and he swallowed, willing himself not to get sick all over himself at the thoughts that churned through his mind like a current. But still, the memories bombarded him, filling his chest up until he was ready to burst, to scream. He shoved his hands into the snow to try and soothe the ache in his knuckles, then quickly yanked his hands back out. If Peter didn’t get any mercy nor comfort from him, he didn’t deserve to feel any sort of comfort in return.

This whole thing felt so surreal… like none of this was real, this was all a dream. This was a nightmare and Bucky was caught up in it, trapped like a fly in a spider’s web of pain and guilt. He stumbled back up to his feet and wrapped his arms around his waist to ward off the cold. The sun was setting in the west, and the temperature around him was dropping. He didn’t want to go to the hospital... he didn’t want to see what he had done to Peter, what his own two hands had been capable of doing. He didn’t want to see the disappointed look on Steve’s face, to look upon him and see a potential murderer…

Bucky gasped, clapping his hand over his mouth as he stumbled from the field. Murder. He’d almost murdered Peter. He’d put him in the fucking emergency room. Steve and Natasha… Peggy… they’d all witnessed him snapping like a fucking twig and turning into a whirlwind of violence and shame, and all in the blink of an eye.

Bucky was terrified; he didn’t realize that he’d been that far down the rabbit hole of his PTSD, but this… this was proof enough that he was a Goddamn loose cannon, set off by children’s fireworks and a bad dream he’d had the night before. Hell if Bucky could remember what the hell it had been about, but he’d woken up that morning miserable and angry. He’d wanted to curl back up and go back to sleep, to waste the day away and hope that his mood improved. But Steve had called him, asked him to go on a group shopping outing before the holiday season. He’d said yes. Bucky would always regret that moment until the day he died.

Halfway through the day, Bucky had wanted to turn in for the day, maybe feign not feeling well so he could lay down and try to forget his ever souring mood. But Steve had wanted him to join him, to follow him to the park with the others… he could never say no to Steve…

Then Bucky had looked at Peter and saw how fucking well he and Steve got alone, cared about each other, and all the rage in the world had filled him up until he was overflowing. Peter hadn’t even done anything to him, but the whole day, Bucky had wanted nothing more than to punch his big, stupid head and get him to shut the fuck up and leave his boyfriend alone. He didn’t want to believe it, but it made perfect sense now; Bucky hated Peter because he got along with Steve in a way Bucky never could.

Bucky finally realized, as he trudged his way through the snow, that he had been purely jealous of Peter. Despite his new girlfriend on his arm, and the fact that Peter was as straight as an arrow, it still angered Bucky to see how close Peter and Steve were; closer than he could ever really be with Steve, to a degree. Steve and Peter were brothers and partners in crime; they had a special bond that Bucky could never take part in. And it had pissed him the hell off.

But now… Now Bucky just felt like a fucking asshole. How could he demand to have that level of closeness with his own friends, and not allow Steve to have the same with Peter? What were the Commandos to Bucky? Close brothers in arms and best friends. Wasn’t that what Peter was to Steve? They’d grown up together, for God’s sake, been through some of the hardest years of their teenage lives together, and still remained closest of friends after months of separation and life experiences.

And Bucky had almost taken it all away from Steve in a jealous, PTSD-induced rage.

Bucky remembered the sounds of the firecrackers erupting across the field; he remembered Peter telling him about triggers, about remembering his past with the ARMY and what it had done to him. He remembered how he had nearly tackled Steve to the ground, set off by the sound of a garbage can lid closing; he remembered the surprise party that had sent him to the floor like a swooning child. Those firecrackers had been the final straw, pushing Bucky’s already angry and jealous temper tantrum into a complete episode; he’d blacked out and attacked, with enough consciousness to realize that the source of his initial anger was standing right in his way.

It fucking all boiled right back down to Peter. The guy that had tried, with selfless care, to make sure that Bucky got the help he needed, even if he’d broken a promise to do so. Peter, who had a piece of Steve’s heart that Bucky could never fully have. Peter, who had thrown himself right in the line of fire the moment Bucky had lost complete control of himself and went on a violent rampage that could have cost Bucky the one thing he held most dear in his life.

Bucky cried, coming to a halt as he stared at the ground in front of him. The snow was falling harder now, dotting any bare spots on the ground with their white flakes. He’d been triggered… he felt like he was on the cusp of another episode right at that very moment. Bucky flexed his hands at his sides, trying so fucking hard to hold onto his sanity once again. He was going to break. He’d done the unthinkable… he was a fucking monster.

Choking on his sobs, Bucky stumbled backwards until his back connected with the post of a light pole. He leaned against it for support, and pressed his hands to his knees. He breathed deep into his chest, hoping beyond hope he could keep himself from slipping into some sort of panic attack; his heart was jackhammering against his ribcage in a frightening staccato until his vision went fuzzy at the corners and his lips felt like thousands of tiny pins were pricking his flesh. He thought of Steve and what he could possibly think of him now, watching him abuse someone so effortlessly. He thought of Peter and what he’d done to him, breaking that man’s trust and harming him so viciously, so heartlessly. He should have listened to Peter. He should have gone to the clinic and had his sessions with Sam.

He should have. He should have. He should have…

“What the fuck did I do…” he whimpered to himself, to the cold air around him. No one answered him. He was just a lonely soldier, still fighting a war that followed him home after all this time.

And he was losing.

 

* * *

 

Steve huffed for breath, feeling like his chest was collapsing in on itself. He tried his best, he really did, to keep pace with the nurses as they rushed the gurney through the halls of the hospital towards the Emergency room. Tears streamed down his face in rivulets, blurring his vision and making it near impossible for him to navigate the crowded hallways as he ran with everything he had beside Peter.

His eyes darted down towards the gurney, and his stomach lurched violently once again; he’d already nearly gotten sick at the sight of Peter twice on the car ride to the hospital, and had already employed the use of his inhaler four times. Still, he never let go of his friend’s hand, even when the nurses yanked the unconscious man out of their grip and strapped him down to a bed to be examined.

Steve couldn’t believe how horrible Peter looked; the blood flow had slowed considerably since the attack in the park, but his nose kept leaking dark red blood down his face, and poured from a large laceration under his right eye. That eye was swollen almost completely shut, and ringed in ugly circles of purple and black. He had bright red bruising all over his cheeks, his chin, his neck, and parts of his shoulders that he could see, and almost the entirety of Peter’s front was covered in tacky blood, soaking into his clothes and staining his black and blue skin like a garish haunted house prop. Steve didn’t want to look under his shirt to see the damage Bucky had caused his chest and stomach with those lethal, steel-toed boots; he could just imagine what his twisted, swollen ribs and stomach must look like beneath his clothing.  It almost didn’t look like Peter was real, or even alive. The only comfort Steve had in knowing that Peter was still with them, was the absolute urgency the nurses rushed him into a room to try and save what little air he could get into his chest, or stop his weak pulse from quitting entirely.

Steve’s terror melted away into instant rage as he thought of Bucky and the absolutely horrifying abuse he’d just rendered on his friend without a second thought; rage and crushing sorrow that had his tears flowing anew down his cheeks. He didn’t understand what had happened. He had no clue why Bucky had suddenly gone off the deep end and tried to murder his best friend in front of him; God, he couldn’t shake the memory of Bucky’s face from his mind. His boyfriend had turned into a monster, his face twisted in an ugly mockery of his normally, beautiful features, and pure hatred had burned bright in those gray-blue eyes. Steve wasn’t terrified of what Bucky had become; Steve was furious. After what they both had promised each other. After all those things Bucky had said to him, about protecting and loving him... he’d gone and tried to kill his best friend. For what?! A snowball fight?! This was his ex all over again, and the only reason Steve wasn’t the one lying on that gurney right now was because his best friend, his _brother,_ had been brave enough to step in and take the abuse that would have surely killed Steve on the spot; and now he was going to lose Peter over it.

A crushing guilt washed over Steve as he stared down at his half-dead friend, and a broken sob choked out of his already raw throat. He’d screamed himself hoarse for Bucky to stop his madness, but with little results. All he’d gotten out of his efforts was a sore throat, and his friend practically dead in front of his eyes. He hated Peggy and Natasha just a little, to know that they had held him back from jumping in to try and save Peter while he could. He understood that if he’d been hit even once by Bucky’s blows, he would have been useless to anyone… but still, the guilt of knowing he’d watched Peter sacrifice himself like that…

A hand landed on his shoulder and tugged him back; Steve yelped as Peter’s hand was ripped from his own, and he shouted in protest, swinging a feeble fist back to try and knock the person that had dared to pull him away from Peter’s side. “Stop!” he shouted, looking up at the person that had dragged him back. He relaxed, however, when he realized that it was Peggy.

“Steve..” Peggy croaked, her voice too broken to utter any louder than that. “Steve… listen to me! They have to… to help him you can’t be in there right now…”

“The hell I fuckin’ can’t! What about Nat?!” Steve barked, glaring his other friend down. Behind Peggy, Steve could see Natasha standing, her shoulders shaking violently and her cheeks splotchy with tears as she stared at her beaten boyfriend as he was transferred from the gurney to the bed. A loud ripping sound filled the room around them, and Steve whirled back in time to see the nurses and the doctor ripping Peter’s coat and shirt off to assess his damages. Horrified, Steve stumbled backwards into Peggy’s arms. “Holy.. holy shit…” he whimpered, bursting into vicious tears in her arms.

On the table, Peter lay shirtless while the nurses strapped a bag valve mask on him and began to manually pump air into the comatose man’s damaged lungs. His stomach and chest were horribly mangled, blackened skin stretched over his toned torso like a patchwork of purple splotches; he had blood on his lower stomach, where the zipper of his coat had been kicked into his flesh and torn a long, deep cut into his skin just above his left hip; the blood had run down the abused skin, staining the top of his jeans until the denim was almost black, and warped the leather of his belt as the toughened material has soaked up the red mess. On his right side, his ribs were badly swollen and twisted, proving that Bucky had successfully broken several ribs in his onslaught. Peter’s arms were flecked with smaller, brighter red bruising and his right wrist was swollen, visibly broken. If Peter ever looked ready to pass on from the world of the living, it was in that moment.

“Jesus Christ…” Steve whimpered, crying into his fist as he stared at his best friend, terrified that he was witnessing his last moments while the nurses and doctors rushed about the room; they shouted in unison, spewing jargon and medical terms that Steve was only somewhat familiar with. The desperate rhythm with which one nurse attempted to supply Peter with much needed oxygen was driving Steve crazy, and yet it didn’t seem to be doing a damn bit of good. “Fuck.. Peggy… is he g-gonna die?” he begged; looking up over his shoulder at his friend, Steve pleaded with watery blue eyes for any answer that told him otherwise.

However, Peggy didn’t answer; she, too, looked sickened by the sight of Peter’s body and her hands trembled violently on his shoulders as she struggled to keep herself together in this moment. Behind them both, Natasha uttered an anguished wail as she tried to push her way into the room. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and treks of mascara ran down her cheeks. She bit her lip as she shoved her way into the room as far as she could, looking just as desperate to be at Peter’s side as Steve felt.

“How the fuck could he do this…” Natasha whispered; her voice quaked in her throat, making her sound younger and more feeble than Steve had ever heard his friend sound in a very long time. “How the _fuck_ could Bucky do this? We… he was just playing… you both were just fucking _playing?!”_

“Natasha,” Peggy intoned, her voice hardening a bit as she looked to the redhead next to her. “listen to me, you need to calm down. We’ll figure out what to do about Bucky when Peter is out of the woods. We need to focus on him right now.”

“But what if he doesn’t make it out?!” Steve demanded, pulling away from her grip as he whirled on her. “What if he doesn’t wake up!? You heard him, he couldn’t fuckin’ breathe, Peg! Whatever happened… he’s hurt bad and I’ve never seen him this bad before.” Steve inhaled sharply; his shoulders shook harder still, making his body convulse in a sharp spasm. His lungs constricted again, as if a band of metal wrapped around them and cut off his air; he knew what Peter was feeling when he struggled to breathe in the snow. He dealt with it on a daily basis.. but this, this was brought on by a physical attack, and it hadn’t even come close to sounding better the longer Peter struggled to breathe. Whatever was going on with Peter’s lungs, he was clearly in grave danger. Pin-pricks ran up and down Steve’s arms as he shook in his spot, his vision swimming with his panic. He stumbled forward, grabbing onto Peggy’s arms for support as he glanced back over his shoulder at his wounded friend, and a wail left him in his fear.

“The three of you, get out of this room!” a doctor ordered, looking back at the three of them as he pointed for the door. “I need you all to leave so we can work here!” He didn’t look away until the three of them had been ushered beyond the curtain by a harried looking male orderly.

“Doctor, he’s in shock, and we can’t hear the expansion in his right lung. We’re suspecting a pneumothorax!” a second doctor said, her eyes wide as the nurse to her right continued desperately to pump life back into Peter’s body. She had a stethoscope pressed to Peter’s bruised chest, her eyes wide as she listened for any signs of function in his right lung.

The doctor cursed, turning back to the bed. “Order him a CT scan and X-rays. Prep a theater for possible thoracostomy. Hurry!”

Steve’s hands tightened around Peggy’s elbows as he listened to the doctor’s orders. His eyes widened in terror as he looked up at Peggy; he mouthed wordlessly at her for a moment before his vision blurred with a fresh wave of tears. “Pneumo-… fuck, Bucky collapsed his lung!” he whimpered. Steve pressed his forehead to Peggy’s chest as she cried harder, wishing for all his worth that he could be in that room right now.

Peggy nodded gravely, her tears drying up a bit. She glanced over at Natasha before extending her free hand to her, her expression grave. “Give me your phone. I need to make a call.”

Natasha only nodded, her teary eyes locked on the curtain as they listened to the doctors and nurses rushing about behind them. The three of them jumped out of the way the moment the curtain billowed open, and the staff inside began to rush the wheeled bed from the room and directly down to Imaging. They only caught a glimpse of Peter’s face as he was hurried from the room; his skin had taken on an ashy tone beneath the bruising so prevalent on his features. But much to their horror, they couldn’t hear the ugly rattle of Peter’s lungs trying to expand; they had gone deathly silent finally. Within moments, Peter was rushed away from sight and the sounds of the staff’s voices as they barked orders to each other echoed down the hall back towards the small trio.

Steve swallowed, feeling sick to his stomach again. He was sure he was definitely going to be sick at some point during this day, and he clutched his stomach in worry. He swallowed down the bile wanting to rise up his throat, willing the sickness to pass as he glanced back at his two friends. He saw Peggy on the phone, talking in a hurried tone into the device, her face pulled in a mask of determination. “Who are… who are you talking to?” he asked, licking his wind-chapped lips nervously.

Peggy looked down at her friend and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. “Sam… he needs to be here… just in case, Steve.” she muttered, sounding pained by the very notion that Peter might not make it out of this alive.

Steve listened, feeling his heart leap right out of his chest and a white hot fury swell up in his chest like a tidal wave. How could she even suggest such a horrid thing!?  “HE’S NOT GONNA FUCKING DIE!” Steve screamed, shoving Peggy’s hand back. The look of surprise that crossed her face only fueled his anger further. “HE’S NOT GONNA DIE, HE’S OUR FRIEND! How could you even SAY THAT?!”

His mind ran rampant over the past hour, flashes of memory making him dizzy; he pictured Bucky’s furious face, his knuckles coated in Peter’s blood as he pounded him into the snowy ground, his scream of fury as he beat him half to death. All of a sudden, every ounce of energy Steve had in his body came crashing down around him, and an overwhelming sense of shame and failure corrupted every thought in his mind. He’d done this. He’d picked wrong again, and now Peter- the guy he’d dragged into this without his permission from the very start, and yet supported Steve unconditionally anyway- was going to pay the price for it.

Behind them Natasha finally broke into a sob, her knees shaking as she struggled to stand upright. She collapsed into a chair next to the wall, and held her head in her hands until the strands of her red hair were clutched in her fists, almost pulled out by the roots. She sobbed openly; water dribbled from her nose into her palms as she wept, terrified that Peggy was right.

Steve couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle the sight of Natasha crying; she never cried. She was the strong one, nothing ever phased her. But this… this, and it was his fucking fault, he’d gotten Peter involved, he’d gotten Peter tied up with Bucky, fuck he’d fucked up just by wanting to have some fun with his childhood best friend, for God’s sake! He shouted in frustration and pulled away from Peggy’s arms. He needed to get out of there, he needed to _breathe_!

“Steve?!” A woman’s voice lofted over the hallway, sounding frantic. Steve recognized that voice. Fuck... how could he have forgotten she was working today. Sarah would know what to do; Sarah had saved so many lives already…

“Mom!” Steve called twirling in his spot as his eyes sought her out. He spotted her tousled blond hair across the hall, and he immediately ran for her, shoving his way through the throng of people in the ER. The moment he found her, Steve threw his arms around her waist, clinging to his mother as he cried into her chest; the front of her scrubs soaked in with his tears, but he didn’t quite care. His mom could help... she saved so many lives…

“Steve! Stevie, baby, what happened?!” Sarah demanded; she pulled her son back from her chest long enough to look into his eyes. “We just got orders to prep an operating room. Male, late twenties…” she trailed off, looking back at Peggy and Natasha. Her eyes widened further at the distraught look painted on Peggy’s features, and the sobbing red-head in the chair next to her. “Bucky... is it Bucky?!”

Steve hiccuped, he looked up at her through the haze of his tears. He shook his head. “No…. it’s.. it’s Peter.”

Sarah gasped, her own eyes springing forth with tears. Steve watched every ounce of fear fill her blue eyes, and he felt a stab of regret at being the one to tell her that Peter had been the unfortunate man she had heard about.

Sarah clapped her hand over her mouth in her shock, staring at her son in disbelief before she shook her head to ward off her own sobs. “Oh my God… Peter?! What the hell happened?!” From behind her, a second nurse approached, ordering Sarah to head into the OR to prep it for emergency surgery. “Steve, tell me! What. Happened.” she demanded; she didn’t have time to wait. She needed to know what the hell had happened to her second son.

Steve swallowed, looking up at her. His eyes burned with sadness, betrayal and guilt, and he shook his head. “Bucky… he did it. He… he tried to kill Peter… We watched it happen.” Steve’s voice barely carried as he looked up at her through tear-streaked lashes.

Sarah’s face drained of color. Her hands shook as she held her son’s shoulders in a vice grip.This time, instead of fear and worry, her eyes burned with the deepest fires of rage, the blue flashing in the fluorescent lights of the ER as the wrath of a mother’s worry for her pseudo-son filled her to the brim. “... we’ll talk when I come back.” she muttered, her voice dangerously cold and level.  “Peter isn’t going to die… I won’t let him. And by God for his sake… James better not show his face in this hospital.”

Steve swallowed and shrank back from her wrath. He’d never heard his mother call Bucky anything but his moniker. But this time… this time he agreed with her. For once, Steve hoped to God Bucky didn’t come to this hospital or show his face. Peter needed them; not Bucky. He squared his shoulders, not caring in the slightest if the tacky, sticky residue of tears sat on his cheeks making his face feel uncomfortable. This time, he was going to put on the brave face, if it killed him. Peter would have done the same. “I’ll tell you everything when you get back…”

 

* * *

 

A few sparse hours later, Bucky burst into the hospital ward, his eyes wide and wild. His knuckles, still bloodied and bruised, rested at his sides as he looked around the hall for the nurse’s station. When he spotted it he rushed over, planting his hands on the desk for support as his weak legs trembled dangerously beneath him. “I need to find a room of a patient. Quill, Peter.” he said, his voice quaking and hurried as he looked down at the woman.

The nurse looked up at him, her eyes wide in worry before she spoke. “Yes, sir. One moment while I look that up for you,” She said, tapping her keys across the keyboard for a moment before she paused. He features hardened as she prepared herself to give this man the hard news. “Sir.. I’m sorry, but, he’s in the ICU. He can’t have visitors at this time.” 

Bucky cursed loudly, fisting his hand in his hair for a moment before shaking his head. He didn’t care if people were staring at him; he just needed to _see him!_ “No! No, you have to tell me! Please, I need to go speak to him!” he demanded, his eyes pricking sharply with tears. What the fuck... he’d done this. Peter was in the fucking ICU and he’d been the one to fucking put him there. He’d fucking lost his goddamn mind and he had no fucking excuse for it; he’d hurt someone he thought he could have seen as a friend. God, he could still see the red splatters on the snow like a fucking Jackson Pollock painting of gore. He could still feel the phantom sensation of Peter’s skin against his knuckles as he’d beaten him into the snow, screaming at the top of his lungs and kicking him with all his strength, repeatedly in the chest and stomach. _‘Die, die, fuckin’ die...’_ his mind replayed those thoughts again and again, and he felt a violent shiver run up his spine, despite the thick wool of his coat that kept him shrouded in warmth. He felt like he could literally shake apart at any moment and fall to pieces right here in front of the nurse’s station. He’d found a deep, dark piece of himself and he was scared, he was so fucking scared...

But worst of all, he’d shown Steve a side of himself he didn’t even know he had possessed. God, the look Steve had given him… the horrified eyes, the sheer terror on his face. He could have very easily attacked and killed Steve, for all the force he’d given into trying to murder Peter; it didn’t matter if he’d lost control of himself, or what he’d seen. He’d done all this without a second thought, and Steve had witnessed it for himself…

“JAMES!”

An angry voice shouted over the hallway and shook Bucky from his thoughts. Bucky whirled, his eyes wide as he turned to find the source of the voice. He felt his heart turning cold in his chest and a new wave of panic lanced through every nerve in his body like ice on his nerves. Peggy had been the one to shout at him, and behind her, were Natasha and Sam. Bucky watched with dread as the three of them approached him; they all looked beyond furious. Natasha looked as if she had been crying recently, from the make up smears on her cheeks, and Peggy… he had never seen Peggy look this livid in the time he’d known her; Needless to say, Bucky could feel that he was not welcome here at this hospital.

It was to his relief to see Sam following behind them. Somehow, Sam had been notified of this whole thing and managed to make it down to the hospital before he did. Perhaps he would have at least one person to listen to him with an unbiased temperament. Steeling himself, Bucky swallowed the bile in his throat thickly and turned to face them all. “Peggy…” he started, holding his hands out to them in a pleading gesture. “Peggy, listen, I do-”

A sharp crack resonated across the hallway; Bucky’s head snapped to the side as he felt a sharp sting burning across his cheek, alighting his skin with a bright red handprint that scored the pale line of his cheekbone. Stunned, Bucky couldn’t move as his mind rushed to catch up with what had just happened. Peggy had slapped him; why did he seem so surprised by this…

He inhaled slowly, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes as he stared at the wall for a moment, trying to gather himself and face the brutal onslaught coming his way. He’d deserved that. He deserved so much fucking more…

“How dare you. How DARE you show your face down here, after what you did!” Peggy snarled, her painted fingers curling into fists at her side. A fresh wave of tears rolled over her features, and the furious scowl on her pretty face morphed into grief as she struggled with her emotions in front of him. “Do you have a bloody fucking clue what you did to Peter?! Do you have any idea what Steve is going through right now?! He’s in that room right now, waiting for Peter to come out of surgery right now. _They’re afraid he might not wake up_. WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING!!! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND?! ”

To her right, a flurry of red darted into Bucky’s field of vision, before a weight slammed into his chest. He felt tiny fists connecting with his chest repeatedly as Natasha threw herself at him in a furious attack. Bucky yelped as he threw his hands up to block his face, just as Natasha’s fury cascaded down on him in a vicious shriek. “You fuckin’ bastard, how can you fucking show your face after what you did!! After EVERYTHING we did for you, you sick fuck! He didn’t deserve this, neither of us did you fuckin’ almost took him away from me!!! I hope you fucking choke you asshole! You don’t deserve Steve!” She shouted at him, voice cracked with her grief as she screamed her curses in his face.

Bucky didn’t fight back against her onslaught; he only listened, feeling his stomach clenching up violently at their words, at her pounding fists. He’d almost killed Peter. He’d almost taken him away from everyone that loved him. And the worst part about it was he didn’t even have a good excuse for what he’d done. Peggy had it right; he’d just lost his mind. “I.. I don’t… I didn’t mean…” Bucky stammered on his words, still shielding his face from Natasha’s fury as he struggled to speak his mind.

Suddenly, the attack ceased. Shortly after, Bucky felt a hand on his elbow; only that hand was not comforting, or supportive. It was firm, tight, and angry. He looked up, seeing Sam staring down at him with a carefully neutral expression on his features. Needless to say, of the three of them, Sam had the most level head about him; still, Bucky could see the betrayal etched in Sam’s eyes, and felt his heart sink even lower in his chest. “Bucky… talk, man. I ain’t talkin’ to you as a therapist, or a professional. I’m talkin’ as a guy whose friend ended up hospitalized with a bum lung and his face kicked in. I’m talkin’ as a guy who’s watching Peter’s best friend cry ‘cause he thinks Peter’s gonna die. And that’s after the nurses very nearly didn’t let any of us into the room. He’s got no family, Bucky. We’re the only ones he can call family. So, you better start spillin’, right now and tell me what the _hell_ is goin’ on in that head of yours!”

Bucky swallowed, staring up at Sam for a moment before he felt his heart cracking in half. Bum lung? What the hell did that even mean? He bit his lip, staring down at the floor before he found the strength to speak his mind. “I didn’t mean… to lose control like that. The fireworks… they set something off in me… and I was already pissed at him for spillin’ my secret to you about.. about what I was goin’ through… I just lost it when I saw him…” Bucky hesitated, feeling his throat clenching up and his heart racing in his chest. His skin felt clammy, his vision swimming dangerously as he struggled to breathe. Fuck is this what Peter had felt before he’d lost consciousness? Did he, too, feel like he was dying? Bucky couldn’t see straight; he felt dizzy and his heart raced in his chest, like it was ready to gallop right out of his bones and spill across the floor. He was panicking, _Jesus_ he could feel himself slipping further into his own terror as he stared at the floor. He wasn’t human. He didn’t deserve pity, but fuck he just felt like he was _dying!_ Worst of all, even surrounded by people, he could feel that no one would help him out of this panic attack. No one cared. He’d done this to himself. Bucky whimpered and leaned against the wall for support as he clamped his palms over his red-rimmed eyes. “I don’t know! I don’t fuckin’ KNOW, Sam! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”  With his plea, Bucky broke, openly sobbing as he stared at the floor in front of him, nauseous with overwhelming guilt. He’d fucked up, and he was going to pay the consequence for this all on his own. He didn’t have his own friends for support now, and he’d pushed away the new ones he could have counted on...

Sam listened to him and stared at him icily, his hand loosening slightly on his elbow. “Tell me what? Peter didn’t tell me shit about you. Whatever secret you shared with him, Peter kept it to himself. All he said to me was that he knew a guy that just came back home that might need the best therapist the VA’s got, and asked me to promise to make a spot for you. That’s all he said to me, Bucky. Peter’s one of my good friends, I wouldn’t turn down a request like that, ‘specially since he knows what you’re goin’ through. He had it bad too, Bucky… but unlike you, he knew he had to get help, no matter how hard he tried to fix himself, before he hurt someone he cared about.”

Bucky listened through the oppressive buzzing in his ears, feeling his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach and out past his feet. Peter hadn’t spoiled his secret; _Peter had kept his promise._ Peter did what Bucky _should_ do for Steve, laying down his life and body to protect him from someone who could seriously hurt Steve. And this is how he’d repaid him for all of it. Bucky gasped, stumbling backwards as his legs threatened to give out from beneath him. He felt the pressure of the wall against his back as he averted his gaze from the three angry people in front of him. “Fuck… oh fuck, no…”  

He sobbed openly; he found no strength to look up at the others at that moment. He couldn’t look at their furious faces, their disappointment… he couldn’t look at Steve. He couldn’t look at Steve sitting on that chair, staring into the room that had had Peter in it not too long ago; there was still flecks of blood on the floor outside the room for God’s sake! He felt himself gagging around his sobs, and he looked away from the group. Natasha… he’d tried to take away him away from her; insulted them both, and then…

“I’m sorry… I’m so… I’m so fucking sorry!” he blubbered; Bucky shook his head violently, trying to shake the memories from his head, that rang out as clear as day. He could remember, piece by piece, every blow and every punch he’d landed on Peter’s face, every kick as he tried his hardest to stop his heart in the snow. And the worst of it was, he had no excuse but his own insecurities, his own flashbacks driving him insane. He knew he shouldn’t have gone out that day. He’d felt off all morning as if he’d been ready to crawl out of his skin in anxiety; but the need to be around Steve had overpowered his common sense, and the worst had happened because of it. All because he’d been too fucking proud to seek help when he needed it the most. He wasn’t a man or a soldier. He was a coward.

“Fuck you!” Natasha hissed, balling her fists up once again. She punched Bucky’ in the shoulder, shoving him further back against the wall. “Fuck you! You’re not fuckin’ sorry! Someone who was truly sorry wouldn’t do this! Wouldn’t try to kill their own boyfriend’s best fucking friend in front of them, you disgusting worm! I didn’t even get two months with Peter! And you’re gonna take him away from me too!? From all of us! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU!” She shrieked, pounding her fists into Bucky’s shoulders as he cried in front of her.

“Natasha!” Sam barked as he dragged her back; his arms wrapped around her waist and held her back as she struggled in his grip. “Natasha, stop! This isn’t gonna solve anything!”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” A voice lifted over the hallway; commanding and powerful, everyone fell silent to those two simple words. Even Natasha went quiet as she looked up from Sam’s arms. Peggy bowed her head and stepped back, opening up Bucky’s field of vision. He lifted his head to see who had spoke up, and his face paled in horror. Fuck… it was Sarah.

The woman in question broke through the small throng in front of him; her face was a mask of unbelievable fury, deadly cool and collected despite the heat in her blue eyes. She glared down at Bucky, her hands balled at her sides and trembling in her silent fury. She stepped right up to him, blocking his view just as he could hear voices approaching the lot of them. Bucky caught the sight of a bed being wheeled behind them, into the room Steve was sitting in, and he swallowed. It had to be Peter; he hadn’t gotten a good look, but from the way the three friends scattered and immediately filed into the room, he knew… it was bad; no, worse than anything he could have possibly imagined. Bucky glanced up at Sarah, his red eyes pleading with her, hoping for some sort of understanding. “Sarah… please, listen to me…”

“Don’t! Don’t speak, you don’t get to speak.” Sarah growled; her fingers flexed at her sides again, and Bucky fell silent. “Do you have any clue… any clue what you have done? Were you too blind in your anger to see him?” She paused, staring down at Bucky for a moment before she grabbed his elbow. Sarah tugged him towards the room, glaring daggers over her shoulder at him as she felt his heels digging into the floor slightly. “No, James. You need to see this. "

Bucky swallowed, looking right into her eyes as he allowed her to pull him into the room. He tried to prepare himself for what he was about to see, tried so hard to keep his composure. But the moment the curtain was pulled aside, Bucky gasped, stumbling backwards as shock settled over him like a hot, punishing weight. His eyes skimmed over Peter’s bruised and battered figure; they took in the sight of the sutures on his stomach and cheek, the ugly black marks on his skin covered in a light sheen of ointment, the cast around Peter’s right wrist. He stared at the swollen eye, the split and stitched lower lip covered in the air mask wrapped around his face, and finally, he focused on the tube protruding from his right side rib cage; it was an ugly plastic thing that pumped air out of his chest cavity and was splattered on the inside by bright red blood. Bucky felt like he was going to be sick. “.... Fuck.. fuckin’ shit…” he whimpered, turning away. But just as he’d turned, he saw Steve rise from his seat and immediately go to Peter’s side to sit. He saw Steve take Peter’s hand in his and pour every ounce of his attention on him, trying to thrust every bit of will in his tiny little body into the wounded man on the bed.

But worst of all, Steve didn’t even look at Bucky. Not once.

Sarah stared down at Bucky, only glancing up to watch Peggy, Natasha and Sam all surrounded the bed, and blocked their view of the wounded man. Natasha immediately perched herself on Peter’s other side, taking his arm in hers and laying her head on his shoulder as she tried to offer up her comfort to her boyfriend; Peggy and Sam remained silent, watching the three of them from their side of the room. Sarah turned her attention away from them back to Bucky, and pulled the curtain to the room shut behind them. With privacy given to the people in the room, Sarah turned her full attention back on Bucky and crossed her arms over her chest. “You listen to me, James Barnes. You almost took away someone very important from us; someone Steve and I love very dearly. Peter and Steve have been like brothers since they were small. I grew up with his mother, and when she died, I practically adopted Peter as my second son. You knew this. This… this right here?” She pointed to the room; she advanced on Bucky, making him back up a few paces. “This right here, I will not accept nor forgive. You might as well have done this to Steve.”

Sarah inhaled, her eyes welling up with hot tears. “Peter threw himself in to save Steve from _you,_ Bucky. He’s done it before, and he will always do it for Steve. But this time…” She scrubbed her hand over her eyes as she tears ran down her cheeks. “We don’t know if Peter is going to wake up. For your God given sake, he better. But you get out of this hospital right now. And you better pray that Peter pulls through this. If he doesn’t… God have mercy on you, James.”

With that, Sarah turned away from him and stalked into the room to tend to him, leaving Bucky standing alone in the hallway. A crushing guilt washed over Bucky; he couldn’t be in this hospital right now. No one wanted him there anyway. Why would he have any right to be there? He’d almost killed Peter, and for no reason but his own stupidity and his stubbornness. Choking on a sob, Bucky turned and sprinted from the hospital. He couldn’t listen to those beeps of the machines anymore, nor smell the antiseptic all around him like the plague; they were going to drive him even more mad than he already was.

The moment he broke free from the hospital and stepped into fresh snowfall, the icy cold of the air enveloped him fully, cooling his overheated skin. But it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t handle this. He couldn’t fucking handle what he’d done. He glanced down at his bruised and cracked knuckles; no one had offered to wrap them; he wouldn’t have allowed anyone to help him anyway. He clenched his hands tightly as he cried; he felt sick and hot and just like the worst monster in the world. He had become what he had feared; he’d allowed his pride to push him to this, to almost kill someone that actually mattered in their lives. He’d fallen so fucking far, there was no redemption for him.

He stuffed his bloody hands into his coat pockets, and took off down the road, walking anywhere, just as long as it was away from the hospital. He didn’t know how long he wandered for; he just knew that he had to breathe, he had to think, he had to hate himself for everything. God, he was doing a good job of it.

Hours passed... By the time he realized where he was, it was well past 10pm that night, and he had somehow found himself back at Brock’s apartment. Really, this was the only place he might have been welcome anymore; though he was fairly certain, even Brock wouldn’t want him around once he knew the truth.

Slumping up the stairs of the brownstone, Bucky let himself into the apartment and kicked his boots off. He stared down at the steel-toed boots, and Goddammit he could see a smear of dark blood on the toe… probably where he’d kicked in Peter’s stomach.  He swallowed thickly and threw the boots down the hallway so he wouldn’t have to look at them anymore; the heavy leather thumped against the wooden floor, oppressively loud and he flinched against the sound. Exhausted, Bucky shrugged out of his coat to let it pool on the floor of the hallway and immediately marched into the kitchen without a second glance behind him. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard, uncapped it, and drank straight from the neck; the alcohol burned his raw throat as it went down, but he relished the sting, at least for the time being. At least it told him he was still fucking human after all.

He gripped the bottle by the neck and carried it into the living room; he slumped down onto the sofa, staring at the table in front of him as he took another heavy drink from the bottle. Bucky could feel his tears flowing anew down his cheeks, but he didn’t bother to wipe them away. He didn’t deserve to. He deserved to show the whole fucking world what he had done; what he had become.

Minutes ticked by, and slowly the alcohol was consumed, swallow by swallow. By the time the bottle was half empty, Bucky felt the pull of the booze on his senses; he felt like he was swimming, his eyes blurred and unfocused, his limbs tingling and sluggish. He could feel himself swaying in his spot as he stared at the floor in front of him, trying so hard to wash away the guilt he could feel eating at his insides like a cancer. But still, the guilt lingered, amplified by the intoxication, and his stomach churned as it sloshed about copious amounts of Jack in his system.

He could hear footsteps approaching; Bucky looked up, swaying dangerously in his spot as he saw Brock standing in the doorway… just staring at him. He felt like an animal on display at the zoo for Christ’s sake; still he didn’t look away nor hide his face from him. Let Brock see him just as he was. It didn’t make a damn bit of difference.

“The fuck happened to you?” Brock demanded as he crossed his arms over his chest; he glanced down and stared at Bucky’s busted knuckles for a long moment, waiting for an answer. That look brooked no argument; Bucky couldn’t hide this from him. Brock had to know what sort of beast he was housing…

“... y’know Peter… P’ter Quill?” Bucky slurred; he fought against his own thick tongue and numb lips to get the words out. At least he was coherent enough to speak. He could see Brock’s eyebrows lift in concern, and he snorted.

“... Yeah. Ain’t he Steve’s best friend?” Brock asked, his voice hedging on worried.

“Yeah…” Bucky laughed, though the sound was weak and humorless. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took another heavy swig. “... I tried t’murder him… n’fronta Steve…” His laugh melted into a broken sob, and Bucky clutched his hand over his mouth, holding back the cry as it threatened to consume him. “Tried… t’fuckin’ kill him… over a fuckin’ snowball fight…” Bucky put the bottle down on the table in front of him with a heavy clang, and he clasped his hands over his face as he sobbed. “I’mma fuckin’ monster, Brock… I didn’... listen t’him! I fuckin’... fuckin’ wanted him dead… I’mma monster…”

Brock didn’t answer him; he simply stared at Bucky for a long moment, standing in the doorway of the living room. After a moment, he left and went into the kitchen. He grabbed a second bottle of whiskey, and a bottle of water and marched back into the living room. Without a word, he put the bottle of water down in front of Bucky, sat next to his sobbing roommate, and took a swig of whiskey for himself. The two of them sat in silence as Bucky cried in his drunken daze. After a moment, Brock leaned forward, pressing his elbows into his knees. “Get help. Own up and get fuckin’ help, man… before your fuck up again, cause no one’s gonna bail you out. This is your ledger, Buck, and you put that red in there yourself. You wanna be with Steve, now you gotta work twice as hard.” He fell silent for a moment before taking another drink of whiskey. “Get drunk tonight… wallow if you really gotta. I’ll sit with you. But tomorrow you go to the VA and you do what you shoulda done in the first place. And I’m makin’ damn sure you fuckin’ remember this in the mornin’.”

Bucky listened; he nodded, grasping his brief moment of clarity to take his words in. Yeah.. he was getting help now.  He couldn’t hide that any longer. Picking up the bottle again, Bucky took another swallow of whiskey, taking comfort in the one person that hadn’t pushed him away that night; not that he blamed the others. He didn’t deserve forgiveness. Monsters like him didn’t deserve their second chance…

 

* * *

 

Peter didn’t wake up from the assault for nearly a week. Seven whole days passed, and no one had the slightest clue if he would come to. The surgery to insert the thoracic tube had gone relatively well, aside from a minor infection that didn’t seem to want to quit, but he still didn’t rouse. When asked, the doctors simply stated that this was his body’s way of recovering from the trauma of the event with as little ill effect as possible. Still, monitoring was kept on high at all times, while his bruises and broken bones healed painfully slowly. When he woke almost seven whole days after the event, there had been much relief shared by all the moment he had opened his eyes again.

Bucky had not been present during this relieving occasion; in fact he hadn’t seen anyone but Brock since the whole thing had gone down. Brock, and Sam Wilson. Bucky had made good on his promise to do as Brock had said and immediately went to the VA to sign up for the therapy courses he should have taken part of from the beginning; he felt like a total heel, standing in the lobby of the institution while the receptionist (the same one he’d walked out on in the first place, dammit…) registered his paperwork and set him up for a session with Sam that very afternoon. Since the attack, he’d only gone once and while he didn’t think this whole therapy thing was going to be a cure-all, it definitely felt a lot better to know he was able to speak his mind to someone with experience in the area. Of course, there had been high tension between Sam and Bucky during their first visit, as their time together had spent in a agonizing silence for the first half of their meeting.

Still, Bucky had to hand it to Sam; he was being far more professional about their awkward situation than he was; Bucky had spent his first meeting staring at the floor, trying his best not to burst into tears on the spot. They spoke at length after Sam had managed to break the ice between them, setting up a proper therapy program for the soldier, and sending him on his way with a firm promise that Bucky actually show up to his next appointment.

The day Peter woke up was the day Bucky had been scheduled for his second appointment. That morning, Bucky found himself sitting in Brock’s living room, staring down at a colorfully wrapped package in his hand; the wrapping job was terrible, he had to admit, but he’d painstakingly sealed it up in bright Christmas-y paper with little cartoon Santas all over it, with Steve’s name happily scrawled into a Christmas card. He had bought his boyfriend a set of paints and canvas oils from France, and had them shipped directly to Brock’s apartment. He’d feared they wouldn’t arrive in time for Christmas, but when the package had arrived just a week before this whole nightmare had started, Bucky had been thrilled to know his boyfriend was going to be getting the best paints he could afford to buy him.

Now he was certain they would never see the outside the wrapping paper ever again. He hadn’t heard a peep from Steve in an entire week, and with the threats given to him by his friends, he was certain that he wasn’t ever going to hear from Steve again. His heart shattered all over again, and his vision blurred heavily as he stared down at the packaging in his grip. He ran his thumb over the corner of the paper, feeling the bubble in the crease with his thumb before he tossed it back onto the table with an exhausted, broken sound. He was never going to erase this red from his ledger as long as he lived, and if he’d lost Steve over this whole thing, he was never going to forgive himself for this.

To his right, his cell phone flashed to life, ringing loudly into the room. He cast a glance down and spotted Sam’s number flickering across the screen. Confusion filled him as he picked up the phone. The clock on it’s front read 10am, almost two hours earlier than his scheduled appointment. With a resigned huff, Bucky answered the phone, pressing it to his ear. “I know I got my session today, Sam, I didn’t forget…”

 _“That’s not why I called.”_ Sam’s voice echoed over the speaker. Oddly enough, Bucky was surprised to hear that Sam actually sounded breathless, almost happy. “ _I’m calling to tell you we’re rescheduling for your appointment, and you need to get to the hospital. Peter woke up.”_

Almost instantly, Bucky’s pulse skyrocketed at those words, and he sat up in his seat. “What? He woke up?” he asked. Relief flooded him and he slumped back against the back of the sofa, staring at the ceiling above him. “Thank fuckin’ God…”

_“You’re damn right about that. He woke up about 3 o’clock this morning and they tried to remove his chest tube. Damn lung collapsed again, so he’s in a lot of pain right now. Steve and Nat are with him now. I don’t think those two left the hospital once since he got admitted.”_

Bucky hesitated, staring at the wall for a moment. “... is his… lung gonna ever heal?”

“ _We don’t know man, but at least he’s awake. It should, but they said the extent of his broken ribs and bruises and everything are still pretty bad. They’re keeping him in until they know for sure it’s gonna stay inflated. That could be a couple weeks.”_

Again, a wave of guilt washed over Bucky as he stared down at his lap. Peter was going to have to spend Christmas in the hospital and all because of him. He was pretty sure all of his friends were going to just bring the party to him; it’s something Bucky would do for any one of his Commandos if the same thing had happened to them. Still, he couldn’t let go of the fact that he’d done this to everyone; Nat and Steve didn’t deserve to spend their waking hours sitting in a hospital staring at someone in a coma. “I dunno if I should show up at the hospital… no one wants me there, remember? I’m the one that put him in there in the first place.”

“ _First step to try and undo what you did is to show up and show your support. Whatever it was that triggered you wasn’t your fault, but you gotta make up for you losing your cool when you had ample opportunity to take care of it at your feet.”_ Sam’s voice cut in, making Bucky duck his head in shame. Dammit, he was right, _again_. “ _Now get your ass down here and at least make an appearance. I’ll be there with you if anyone’s got something to say alright?”_

“Yeah… I hear you. I’ll be there in a bit.” Bucky replied, sounding defeated. He hung up a moment later, rubbing his hands over his face in exhaustion. He didn’t really want to move, but the necessity of the moment stood before him, and this time he wasn’t going to not take someone’s advice. Besides… Steve was going to be there. Maybe he could talk to him, work out this whole mess…

With that, Bucky quickly rose to his feet and shrugged into his coat. He laced up his boots and made for the door, stepping out into the snowy atmosphere around them. The day was dull and gray, and the wind whipped around the buildings, making him shiver violently as he hailed a cab to take him to the hospital.

It wasn’t a long drive, but to Bucky it felt like an eternity; he silently paid the cabbie for the ride and slipped into the hospital. After a quick inquiry, he discovered that Peter had been moved to a regular room, and he practically sprinted down the hallway without thanking the receptionist for the information. Once again, the smell of antiseptic filled his nose and he swallowed thickly in an attempt to get the stench out of his throat. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat as he walked, hoping to god that no nurses or doctors decided to turn him away. He didn’t know if Steve or his friends would have told the staff there to disband Bucky from the hospital if they saw him, but as he walked no one stopped him or hindered his trek. That was a good sign, at least

By the time he made it to Peter’s room, Bucky was a live-wire of nerves and jitters, and his anxiety only made him flex his still slightly bruised knuckles in worry. He saw Sam standing outside the room, and his shoulders relaxed just a touch at the sight of a familiar face. With a small smile, Bucky approached him, hoping to placate the situation with Sam at his side. As much as Sam was still pissed at him for what he’d done, at least he still had his support. “Hey…”

Sam looked up and nodded when he saw Bucky approaching him. “Hey. They just brought him back into the room from another X-ray. They said his left lung is still pretty badly bruised, and the right one’s not wanting to stay put. But he’s at least awake now. In a lot of pain too.”

Bucky nodded, staring down at the floor as he listened to him. “Did the others know I was comin’?”

Sam smirked, staring at the door with a careful eye. “No. I called you myself. Figured maybe a good faith gesture from you showin’ up might break the ice a little bit with them and lower a few tempers.”

Bucky swallowed and stared at the door in front of him, long and hard. He didn’t know about this; it just seemed way too easy that they would even let him into the room at all after what he did. But he wasn’t about to disrespect Sam any further than he already had. Besides, he wanted to know for himself, how Peter was doing. It was the least he could do after beating his face in for no reason.

But just as he’d reached out to grab the door handle and let himself in, the door swung open, revealing a bedraggled and exhausted looking Steve standing just on the other side. It took the blond a nano-second to realize who it was he had almost run into, but the moment his blue eyes landed on Bucky’s face, the tired relief hardened into cold-faced indifference. Bucky felt his chest seizing at the sight of Steve’s callous glance, and he offered him a weak smile. “Hey, dollbaby….”

Steve didn’t respond. Instead, he stared at a point just beyond Bucky’s left shoulder at the ceiling above them, and attempted to push past him to leave the room. To Bucky’s right, Sam just hefted a quiet sigh and entered the room to check up on Peter; Bucky felt a stab of betrayal in his chest as he watched Sam abandon him to this conversation; despite his initial hurt, he knew he had to face this on his own. Still, Bucky didn’t feel ready or prepared for this at all, and he gently reached out to place a hand on Steve’s thin shoulder. “Stevie… baby look at me.”

Steve’s face hardened into a darker mask of anger as Bucky tried to get his attention. He attempted to pull free from Bucky’s grip, and Bucky felt an icy panic run through him. Steve didn’t want to talk to him. He’d lost him.

“Baby! Please look at me!” Bucky begged; he could feel the corners of his eyes burning with unshed tears and he inhaled a shaky, uneven breath to keep himself stable. “Please look at me! I’m sorry! I’m so fuckin’ sorry, you have no clue how damn sorry I am for this! I just… I wanna talk to you, get through this, please! Please just lemme talk…” He felt his fingers trembling on Steve’s shoulder, and he forced himself to loosen his grip, just so that he wouldn't bruise his shoulder. The last thing he needed to do was accidentally hurt Steve. He’d never be able to walk away from something like that after all of this.

After a moment, Steve stopped struggling; he looked up at Bucky, met his gaze for a long and tense moment before he pulled away with a wrench of his shoulder. He reached out and grabbed Bucky’s wrist before it could fall far from his shoulder, and tugged him into the room behind him. With a quiet click, the door shut behind them, and Steve looked up at Bucky. “Don’t talk for a minute. Just watch.” Steve said, voice cold and void of emotion.

Bucky nodded slowly and let his eyes track across to the other side of the room. There was a small congregation of people in the room, and Bucky felt a stab of hurt in his chest to see that it was almost all of Steve’s friends, sitting around watching Peter, anxious for the state of his well being. There were three chairs on the opposite wall, and two of them were currently occupied. Tony sat in the one closest to the window, his chin propped up in his palm as he dozed against the corner of the wall; he looked like he hadn’t slept properly in a few days. Thor sat next to him, leaned forward so his elbows were pressed to his knees as he watched Peter with barely concealed concern on his features. The third chair was empty, but Bucky recognized Clint’s coat slung over the arm; he must have left to go get coffee from the cafeteria. Next to the bed, Peggy and Sam stood together, their features tight with exhausted smiles as he tried to keep on a happy face for their friend.

On the bed, Peter sat propped up on the elevated mattress. His arms were covered in tubes and wires, his right wrist was casted midway up his forearm, and he had a morphine drip tapped into his left hand. He wore a thick oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, and from beneath his thin hospital gown, Bucky could see a larger plastic tube than the initial one they had fitted Peter with, ugly and slightly pink from blood, protruding from his right side ribcage. His bruising and cuts were ugly and dark, the stitching on his lower lip visible from beneath the oxygen mask, and his right eye was just beginning to lose the swelling that had overtaken the right side of his face. Despite looking pale and sick, Peter still had a huge smile on his features as he talked with his friends. Next to him on the bed, Natasha had laid down, curled up into his side as she placed her head on his untouched shoulder. Peter had his left arm draped around her shoulders as he held her close for comfort, rubbing her arm and nuzzling her hair as she spoke with him in low tones. Sarah sat in a chair next to the bed, checking his vitals with an exhausted air. Every single person in that room looked beyond tired, as if none of them hadn’t slept a wink in the week since the attack.

But what surprised Bucky the most was the sight of the tiny little girl sitting on the bed, in between Peter’s legs.

Maggie.

Maggie was chattering away to Peter, all smiles and a child's carefree attitude as she drew on a piece of paper with brightly colored crayons. Next to her, she had a small gift bag, overstuffed with tissue paper, and a big yellow smiley face with a bandaid on its forehead, printed on the bag. Bucky felt his throat tightening as he watched the little girl hand Peter the piece of paper she had been working so diligently on. Peter accepted the drawing with a huge smile, thanking her for her gift before the gift bag was shoved into his hand. Bucky watched as Peter carefully untucked the tissue paper from the bag and produced a small, stuffed raccoon from the confines of the bag. The grateful smile he gave the little girl was almost as heartbreaking as looking at all of his wounds, and Bucky had to look away as Peter pulled the little girl into a gentle, one armed hug in gratitude of her gift.

Bucky cleared his throat, and instantly felt the entire room shift its gaze from Peter to himself. The atmosphere darkened almost instantly, and he looked up to see the entire room (save for Peter, Sam and Maggie) glaring daggers at him. Natasha curled protectively into Peter's side as if she'd shield him from Bucky's sight, while Thor and Tony stood and guarded the foot of the bed, with arms crossed and vicious scowls on their features. Peter, bless him, he tried to speak up to the others, to tell them it was alright, that Bucky could be there; he was saved the trouble by twisting too hard in the bed, and wrenching the tubing in his chest, which caused a loud hiss to fill the room as he doubled up in visible pain. Almost instantly, Sarah descended on her patient, shushing him in his pain as she tried her damn hardest to soothe her pseudo-son back into comfort.

Fuck, this was all wrong. Bucky should never have showed up; the hell was Sam thinking, bringing him back into this fold, when no one wanted him there to begin with? Bucky tried to speak, he really did; he just wanted to plead his remorse to everyone and swear on his Christian soul that he would forever atone for his crime. He tried to speak; all he managed was a quiet squeak of distress before he felt Steve grab his wrist and drag him from the room again.

Both relieved and disappointed that he’d been removed from the situation, Bucky flinched as the door slammed shut, and he looked down at Steve with a heavy frown; he gestured to the room behind them and sighed sadly.. “I was gonna… apologize to ‘em all for… for what I did. I wanna talk to Peter… try and make up for what I did, ya know.”

Steve stared at him as if he couldn't understand the words tumbling from his lips. After a long and tense moment, Steve barked a shallow laugh and shook his head; he held a finger up to Bucky, cutting him off mid-ramble. “Do you know what the final diagnosis was?” Bucky shook his head, and Steve continued, ticking off the list on his fingers with a frightening sort of calm. “Collapsed right lung, bruised left lung, multiple fractures, bruised diaphragm, 44 stitches on his lip, cheek and stomach, a concussion, and everything else you can see there." Steve paused and leaned in to really drive his point home. "And you think one apology is gonna make up for that? They didn’t think he was gonna wake up, for fuck’s sake.”

Bucky inhaled, closing his eyes as he tightened his fists at his sides. “I didn’t… mean…”

“You might notta meant it, Bucky, but it still happened!” Steve snapped, glaring up at him. His own blue eyes were bright and shining as a few wayward tears ran down his cheeks. “Peter’s not pressing charges against you, despite what everyone keeps telling him. He doesn’t want to get you in trouble after all of this; just keeps goin’ on about how he knows what you’re goin’ through. Fuck if I know what that is, since you won’t tell me!”

Bucky choked back a tired sob, staring at the floor. His hands were shaking violently at his sides now, and he looked away from Steve to try and gather his wits. Hot tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision.  “I didn’t… know what to do or who to tell about any of this…” he tried again, hoping beyond hope that his words would be heeded this time.

“So you TALK to me, Bucky! You don’t just hide it from me and hope for the best! What would you have done if youda done what you did to Peter, to me?! How am I supposed to trust you now if you won’t tell me what’s going through your damn head!” Steve snapped, backing Bucky away from the door. He stared up at him for a long moment with a fiery gaze, trying his damnedest to read his boyfriend's eyes, before resuming his tirade. “Is it PTSD? Is it from the war? Because it sure as fuck didn’t look like it to me, the way you were tryin’ to kill him in cold-blood! Tell me what it was!”

Bucky sobbed harder, shaking his head viciously as he scrubbed his knuckles over his cheeks to dry the tears that ran down his skin. “I don’t know!” he exclaimed, looking down at him. “I don’t fuckin’ know what I was thinking! Was I jealous of him? Was I completely insane!? I _don’t fuckin’ know and I wish I did!”_  

Steve paused, watching him for a long moment before he stepped into his line of sight again. “You were jealous of Peter? How the hell does that make sense! He’s not gay! He’s like my brother to me!” Steve shook his head, and stepped away from Bucky’s side again. “You know he said to me, first thing when he woke up, was that he’d stop bein’ friends with me if it meant that he wasn’t stepping on your toes anymore. He said he doesn’t want to be the cause of problems between us anymore. Don’t you damn get it, Bucky? Peter cares about you too, and he didn’t want to be the cause of your misery. Does that sound like someone that deserves to get almost beaten to death?”

Bucky looked up at Steve, his tears drying for a moment before he shook his head quickly. “NO, I don’t want him to stop bein’ friends with you. That’s not what I want at all!”

Steve held his hand up to him, silencing Bucky on the spot. “I already told him to get that stupid idea out of his head. We’ve been friends for 20 years. I’m not letting him go after this. He means too much to me.” He stared at Bucky long and hard, his jaw set; though through the mask of his anger, Bucky could see a veil of sadness and dejection gnawing away at the tiny blond's heart. Clearly this was something that had been eating away at Steve for days now, and it was all finally coming to a head.

Bucky immediately tensed as his heart raced in his chest, icy clutches of fear and panic that gripped him tight and rooted him to his spot. He inhaled, bringing his heart rate down a few beats; he didn't want to ask, but he knew he had to. He’d done this to himself. He had to face the consequences of it. “... what does that mean for us?” he asked, feeling like his tongue was choking him. He could feel his skin tingling with anxiety, his blood slamming through his veins like a torrent as he tried so hard to stand strong in front of Steve. _Jesus_ , he didn’t want to hear his answer…

Steve hesitated; at his sides, his thin hands unclenched from their fists, and he slumped backwards. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks, and he cleared his throat quietly. “I don’t know…” he stated, quietly. “I don’t know. But I made a promise to you to protect you, and you made a promise to me, too. We promised to care about each other and help each other… and one of us didn’t follow through.” He looked up at Bucky, his voice wavering dangerously as he continued. “But you shouldn’t be here right now. Peter needs me, and I need to be with him.”

Bucky felt a heavy weight crash down on his shoulders, dragging him into heartbreak as he watched his boyfriend turn away from him. “Steve…” he started, taking a step forward to stop him from walking away.

“Bucky. Leave.” Steve ground out, his tone hardening as he glanced up at him. “Leave please… I don’t want to see you right now.” With that, Steve turned away fully and stepped into the hospital room; he closed the door behind him, shutting out Bucky entirely as he left him standing alone in the hospital hallway.

Bucky stared at the door separating them, and a fresh wave of sobs overtook him. He stumbled backwards from the door, feeling like the air around him was choking him, trying to drown him in his spot; he trembled in a sickish shiver as he turned away from the room, numbly vacating the wing he stood in without looking back. He could barely hear anyone talking around him; his blood was rushing in his ears too loudly for him to hear anything at all. It was over; it was over and Bucky had no one to blame for it, but himself. 

Shoving the hospital doors open, Bucky stumbled out into the cold, December air around him. He felt the sting of the frigid breeze against his tear-streaked skin, but he didn’t care in the slightest. Once he’d broken free from the oppressive air of the hospital, Bucky burst into tears, clapping his palm over his mouth to stifle his sobs; he had to get away from there as soon as possible. He couldn’t be there anymore. It wasn’t like he was welcome, anyway. 

Left alone to his misery, Bucky wandered from the hospital, tears freezing to his cheeks as he cried, bereft of heart. He’d lost Steve. He’d gone and fucking lost Steve, because he hadn’t been brave enough to listen to Peter’s advice. There was absolutely no way he could ever forgive himself for this. A small part of him wished that he could vanish into thin air, to never be seen again. No one would miss him anyway.

Exhausted, Bucky slumped into a bench, just outside Prospect Park, cradling his aching head in his hands as he stared at the ground beneath him. He had no idea what he was going to do with himself; there wasn’t _anything_ he could do. He’d been the one to bring this on himself; _fuck_ , he’d done it all on his own. Whimpering into the cold air around him, Bucky closed his eyes, wishing beyond reason that he could wake up from this nightmare and never have to face it again; only this wasn’t a dream, and there was no waking up from this. This felt like Iraq all over again; this time, however, he was the villain, and there was no coming back from this crime. If Peter ever changed his mind about pressing charges, Bucky would willingly let the cops take him away. It was the least he could do now…

“Steve… I’m so sorry…” he cried, barely audible, as he wiped the tears from his cold face. He’d never apologize enough for what he did. It was just a shame that Steve was never going to hear him say those words again...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being a rather Peter-centric chapter, as this one came round about back to the issue Bucky is dealing with, and how Peter wanted to help him so badly. Peter is such a good bro and a good friend, he didn't want to see Bucky suffer with his PTSD any more than necessary. Too bad it cost him his health in the end. :(
> 
> As for the magnitude of the violent outburst, I personally have seen someone lash out in this level of violence while dealing with untreated PTSD. It's ugly and frightening, and I wanted to capture those moments and show people that PTSD really is something to worry about, especially when it comes to a loved one. I don't know when the next chapter will be out, as it is passed back to LI's very capable hands for the next installment. Just please don't kill me for this chapter. Ily? Cookies? :( 
> 
> I SWEAR WE HAVE SOMETHING GOOD PLANNED FOR YOU GUYS!! Just stick us out and you'll see for yourself!! 
> 
> -Nerd


	7. Band-aid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky deals with the aftermath of his black out, deciding to pour his heart out in a moment of honestly to Steve, whether it be accepted or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was a record-timing update. We actually kept to our weekly update schedule! Also, the formatting went wonky on this one again so if you see random extra spaces, sorry! I tried to remove them all but I'm sure I missed some. 
> 
> Hope this chapter doesn't hurt as bad as the last one!! (Also the letters have returned! If you need to see them without the formatting, please head over to the Letters Only: [Click me!!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4203000/chapters/10608921)
> 
> This fic has a photoset and it's located here: [Click me!](http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/post/124681158988/ps-i-love-you-explicit-410-chapters-updates/)  
> (I also wanna apologize for the letters in this chapter having super stereotypical "handwriting" typography. I lost the old ones!)

Bucky lay on the sofa, he didn’t have the desire nor drive to actually get the pull-out bed situated like he used to. He stared up at the ceiling, counting the popcorn moldings. He’d seen Sam once a week ever since the “incident.” He was supposed to be headed that way now, except he just needed more time to continue staring at the ceiling.

Brock had been extremely supportive of the entire situation. He’d invited Bucky out each time he went somewhere with his friends, always stayed up with Bucky when he couldn’t stop crying. Last night he even let Bucky cry into his chest for hours. If anything, this situation made Bucky realize his brother-in-arms, Brock Rumlow was his absolute best friend and the only thing standing between Bucky and the barrel of a gun. There’d been many nights where Bucky wanted to just end it all. Losing Steve was like losing his soul. Life was sluggish, heavy and dark. There wasn’t a point anymore without Steve. He took all the light with him and Bucky was left to shrivel away in the cold dark.

Bucky groaned, leaning up to rub at his neck. His body ached, throbbing in violent pulses with every breath, every twitch. He wasn’t sure if it was because he couldn’t go without crying for fifteen minutes or if because his desire to quite literally die was actually slowly killing him.

“You doing okay there, sport?” Brock inquired from his recliner. He was reading To Kill a Mockingbird.

“Tired,” Bucky responded, rubbing at his face. “Do you have anymore Advil?”

Brock set the book down, using the lever to put the chair back into the sitting position and stood up.

“Brock!” Bucky whined. “I didn’t mean for you to get it!”

“Quit yer bitching!” he barked back. He came back into the room and tossed the bottle at Bucky, offering him a cold bottle of water.

“Thanks,” Bucky mumbled softly. “I was thinkin’ about gettin’ a job. Somethin’ to take my mind off shit.”

Brock sat on the coffee table, leaning his elbows against his knees. “Fuck that. You need to focus on gettin’ better.”

Bucky held the other man’s gaze for a long moment. Brock had such large, brown eyes. He’d seen exactly what Bucky had seen. Granted, he served his entire term and elected to get out of the ARMY, but he’d seen some shit. Brock went through life, taking every punch and rolling them off his shoulders. He stuck up for himself when necessary, but he was so stable. Envy swirled around Bucky’s heart. He wanted to be like Brock Rumlow. He wanted to be stable.

He could have given Steve full life if he’d been stable. But Bucky could barely take care of himself. How was he supposed to take care of another life? He’d made a promise, a promise to protect Steve, and all he did was hurt him in the end.

‘God, if I had hit Steve...’

“You want me to drive you to the VA? You’re gettin’ late,” Brock offered, pulling Bucky from his thoughts before hot tears could well into Bucky’s eyes.

“Sure,” Bucky sighed. “I hate movin’.”

“You should start workin’ out with me,” Brock suggested. “You’ve gotten a bit smaller.” He poked at Bucky’s chest, chortling.

Bucky swatted Brock’s hand away, offering a suppressed smile. “That’d be good.”

“C’mon,” Brock said, standing up. “Sam’ll freak out and call me if you’re late.”

“What?”

“I’m your emergency contact, dumbass!” Brock said, lightly hitting Bucky in the back of the head.

Bucky rolled his eyes and grabbed his coat. Christmas was in three days… He looked over to the little package on the coffee table, its cliche wrapping paper with the brushes and paints tucked safely inside. Bucky had been so excited the day those came. Now when he saw the gift, his heart pulled deep within him, twisting into itself and shuddering. He swallowed hard, tearing his gaze from the gift and pressed on into the bitter cold.

He’d stopped wearing his steel-toed boots...so now his feet were always cold in the snow.

* * *

 

At the VA, Brock walked over to the secretary, chatting her up softly. Bucky trailed behind, looking at pictures of various squads, heroes, the announcement board. He shoved his hands into his pockets, chewing at his bottom lip.

“Thought you were gonna bail,” Sam said behind him.

Bucky turned around, looking at Sam with pale, red-rimmed eyes, shrugging a shoulder. “Brock says you’d call him if I tried.”

Sam laughed. “Damn right I would. He’s just as concerned about you as I am.”

Bucky grimaced, looking at his feet. “How’s Peter?”

“Doing good,” Sam affirmed with a soft smile. “Asked about you this morning.”

Bucky looked up with round, shocked eyes. “Why?”

“Wanted to ask how you’ve been doing.”

Bucky rolled on his feet, licking at his lips nervously. “Was anyone else around?”

Sam eyed Bucky suspiciously. “Steve and Nat haven’t left him, so yeah, but I ain’t in the business of reading body language or gossip, so whatever Steve did, it stays in that room.”

Bucky slumped his shoulders, sighing. “Yeah, that makes sense. So I guess I can’t ask about Steve?”

Sam winced. “Buck…” he drawled. “Look man, you need to focus on you.”

Bucky shrugged, looking over to Brock as he laughed loudly with the secretary, tossing his head back in such a carefree way. Bucky used to be like that. He used to be all smiles and jokes. He used to light up rooms with his energy and pull people to him. Now, he was the rainy day that people would rather avoid, the meek stranger people weren’t sure if he’d hurt them or just keep on walking…

“I just wanna know if there’s a chance…” Bucky wavered, feeling his throat clench up. “I just need closure. To know if I’m s’posed to move on or if there’s a chance…” His eyes were wet, shimmering with desperation. He pressed his lips together, feeling his heart start to pang in his chest.

Sam shook his head slowly. “That’s not for me to tell you,” he answered in absolution. “C’mon. Class is starting.”

“Woah, class?” Bucky asked, shrinking back. “We do solo sessions.”

Sam kept walking, opening the door to a class of people all in a circle. “Not today. Today I wanna work more with your trauma. You don’t have to share. But this is all part of the process of taking control.”

Bucky’s first instinct was to lash out, to yell and go red in the face. But he knew that was the PTSD and if he showed any signs of anger, he wasn’t sure he could hold them back till he was beating on the one last connection to Steve Rogers. To Peter.

Bucky owed Peter this. So he waved at Brock, getting a wink back before he walked into the room and shuffled to a seat in the back. No one seemed to pay him any mind. A woman smiled softly but that was about it.

Bucky sat down, crossing his arms over his chest. The chair was wooden and uncomfortable, making his already aching muscles protest loudly but he steeled himself, ready to listen to whatever Sam had to say.

Sam stood at the front of the class, looking around as everyone quieted down. “I know we like to focus on our time here, versus our time over there but today I’m gonna focus on the reason why you struggle with your day-to-day. We’re gonna talk about our trauma. About the things that keep us up at night. If you’re not comfortable with that, you don’t have to share. Taking control of what happened to you, looking at it from a different angle, that’s all part of this. You survived. You’re here today because of that trauma. Don’t let it take your life away now. You’ve come this far, so let’s help each other to keep going.”

Bucky listened to people share their stories, some just about as bad as his, some not so much. But it wasn’t a contest (Sam even said so) and it was...morbidly refreshing to know that a lot of the people in this room had seen friends die or blow up in front of them. They’d pointed guns at children, killed women, or were just in general bad situations. Bucky considered himself lucky there. He’d never killed a woman or a child. But he’d seen his friends die. Witnessed the world painted red with their blood. He stayed quiet, not ready to spill his guts out, not like this, not yet. He was too much of a mess. All he could think about was Steve and the hole that resided in his heart. To tell his story, to speak of his friends as the life left their eyes, Bucky wanted his attention entirely on them. He owed that to them too.

Bucky owed a lot of people a lot of things, and he was going to do his damnedest to pay them all back.

After the session, Brock was still waiting for him, like a concerned parent for his troubled kid. Brock was older than Bucky, nearing his fifties at this point. He was like a father to Bucky. Father, brother, friend. Brock was a lot of things to Bucky. If Bucky hadn’t had Brock, things would have turned out much, much worse. Sam and Brock had been literal rocks throughout this situation.

“You did good in there,” Sam said, coming up to Bucky.

“You share?” Brock asked.

Bucky shook his head sullenly. “Just listened.”

“I don’t expect you to be an eager beaver,” Sam detailed. “You were attentive. You learned shit. I could tell. We’ll do another group meeting after Christmas. I’d like you to try to share next time though. Even just a bit.”

Bucky looked to his boots, pressing his lips together. “We’ll see.”

“I also want you to visit Peter. I’ll make sure Nat and Steve aren’t there. But I think it’d be good for the both of you.”

Bucky shook his head, stepping back. “Please don’t.”

“Bucky,” Brock sighed. “You need to see him.”

Tears blurred his vision as he reached up with a trembling hand to catch them before they fell. “I’m not ready.”

“He’s ready,” Sam pressed. “A lot of weight’s gonna be off your chest when you talk to him. I promise.”

Bucky felt like if he kept talking, he was just going to swallow his tongue. He couldn’t do this! He couldn’t see Peter yet. His heart was hammering in anxious fury. Waves of panic rushed against him, over and over like an ocean fury during a storm. He wrapped his arms over his chest, feeling like a child being forced into a sport he didn’t want to do. There was no use in arguing at this point, but that didn’t mean Bucky would ever be okay with this. How could Peter even be okay with this? Bucky had bludgeoned him nearly to death! How was this going to heal anything? The only way Peter was going to heal was if an attorney threw down a lawsuit against Bucky.

“Ready to go?” Brock asked. “I was thinkin’ we go get a hot dog for dinner.”

“I’m not hungry,” Bucky mumbled, his stomach recoiling at the very notion of food.

“Then you can watch me eat my hot dog and sit there nicely,” Brock redirected with a smug smile. “Sides, I drove ya here. That’s your payment.”

Bucky grunted, it was the closest thing to a laugh he could come to these days.

At the diner, Bucky did eventually eat a hot dog…

* * *

 

Steve finished with the last of the ornaments on the tree, stepping back to admire the faux Christmas tree. They weren’t allowed to have real ones in their building because of fires, but his mom liked to hang pine-scented air fresheners to make the tree smell real.

“How’s it coming, baby?” Sarah asked as she handed Steve a glass of eggnog. Steve had to wince when he automatically remembered eggnog contained eggs...and Bucky couldn’t eat eggs.

“I think it looks good,” Steve answered softly, still eyeing the nog.

Sarah set her glass down, moving to plug the lights into the wall. “When’s Peggy getting here? I wanna see her before I have to go to work.”

“Should be here soon,” Steve said, taking an exploratory sip of the eggnog. He had to set the thick, holiday liquid aside. It was too painful to remember Bucky. Every day, Steve looked at a corner of his room, looking into a cardboard box that contained a year’s worth of letters. Each time, he’d burst out into loud sobs that’d leave his body sore and swollen. He couldn’t do it anymore. He had to put Bucky...his mistake behind him. Bucky had been just like every other disappointment that Steve had ever dated, but to a degree, he was worse. He’d been beautiful and Steve honestly believed Bucky had cherished him. He’d bought the lie, consumed the adoration and ignored all the warning signs.

_‘Why did I think I even deserved something different?’_

Sarah brushed her slender fingers against Steve’s face, catching a tear that Steve didn’t even know he’d shed. “I love you, Steve,” she whispered. “I know this hurts.”

Steve wiped at his eyes, sniffing softly. “I’ll get over it.”

His mother bunched up her lips, sighing through her nose. “You’re allowed to be upset. You really loved him. Hell, I loved him.”

Steve sat on the couch, hating how his heart twisted when he remembered the night he’d let Bucky take his virginity. He couldn’t go into the bathroom, the kitchen, or even sit on the fucking couch without thinking of Bucky now… He’d never regretted something so much than the night he’d given himself to Bucky. He felt tainted and spoiled, like there was an infection that now swarmed his veins and the world could see it.

Someone knocked at the door. Steve looked over his shoulder, watching his mother open the door to Peggy. They hugged each other briefly, Peggy whispering, “Happy Christmas,” to Sarah before she walked further into the open floor-planned apartment to slip off her snow boots.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Stevie!” Sarah called as she left, closing the door behind her.

Steve turned around on the couch, pushing his tummy into the back of it as he raised onto his knees to watch Peggy. “Cold outside?”

“Isn’t it always this time of year?” Peggy responded with a smile. “Did you ever get a bigger jacket?”

“No,” Steve sulked. “I got...sidetracked.”

Peggy winced, nodding softly. The great thing about having a best friend was that Steve didn’t have to explain what he was talking about and Peggy understood perfectly.

“Your tree looks lovely,” Peggy admired, coming to sit on the couch. She pulled Steve into her, letting him rest his head against her shoulder.

“Yeah,” Steve answered flatly. “Woulda been nicer if…” He cut himself off, feeling his throat squeeze.

“If Bucky were here?” Peggy finished for him.

“I wanna hate him, I really do.” He felt tears slip from his eyes and onto Peggy’s blouse.

“You don’t have to hate him, Stevie,” Peggy mentored. “But you do need to realize he’s dangerous and you’re safer without him.”

“I know,” Steve replied. “I wanna move on.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?” Peggy asked, resting her chin on Steve’s head. “Watch a lot of silly chick flicks and talk about how pathetic these women are for pining away over men who are beneath them? Watch horror movies and laugh? Or just get fat.” She laughed. “I’m personally in favor of the last one.”

Steve snorted, playfully tickling at Peggy’s sides. “You’re not fat!” he elated.

She squealed lightly, jerking away from Steve’s fingers. “S-stop it!” she laughed out.

Steve settled back, standing up and going into his room. He stood before the cardboard box, the one with every single letter Bucky had ever written and every post-it note thereafter. His heart felt heavy as it pumped against his sternum. With shaking fingers, Steve picked up the box, not caring that more tears quietly slipped from his eyes.

Bringing the box out into the living room, Steve set it on the table.

Peggy leaned forward, opening the box with perfectly manicured fingers. “Steve,” she breathed out. “These are Bucky’s letters!”

“I wanna get rid of them,” Steve resigned. “I wanna get rid of him.”

Peggy opened one of the letters, scanning over the words with parted lips. “Steve…”

“I’ve made up my mind,” Steve asserted. “Nothin’s gonna change that.”

She ran her tongue along red-stained lips. “You really wanna give up a year of your life?”

“It was all a lie, Peg!” Steve shouted. He stepped back, feeling his shoulders quake as he burst out into tears. “Fuck, Peggy!” He dropped to his knees, feeling arms pull him into a plush chest. He cried loudly, desperately grabbing Peggy’s blouse.

Bucky had become Steve’s life. He’d become the hope of something better, that Steve was better, that he was worth more than the grimaces and the sneers from men and women who passed him on the street. Bucky had lifted Steve with soft kisses, and compliments that would drown his body in so much warmth and security. Bucky was the hope of something better and now that was all gone. Bucky hadn’t been better. He’d been just like everyone else. His smiles were lies to draw Steve into a sense of security and then when Steve was so ensnared only then did Bucky show his claws, leaving Steve abandoned and cold.

It’d been weeks since the attack and Steve still had trouble sleeping at night! Peter was going to be okay, but that didn’t make the situation okay! Bucky had attacked Peter! He’d have attacked Steve if Peter wasn’t around! Steve wasn’t too proud to admit that Bucky could have killed him had Peter not been there! Every man that Steve had ever let into his life had let him down… maybe it was because he didn’t deserve anything better. A man that looked like Steve couldn’t get the good guys because they were too busy finding worthy partners. Steve wasn’t worth a good guy. That much was so painfully evident now. All Bucky had been was a lie.

“Shh, sweet thing,” Peggy cooed. “You’re upset. It’s okay. He seemed so perfect for you.”

Steve sobbed brokenly into Peggy’s chest, feeling her collarbone against his cheek. He shook violently in her arms.  His spine was bent awkwardly and his neck hurt but he couldn’t stop crying. Bucky had taken the last bit of hope out of Steve. All Steve wanted to do now was get rid of this pain and move on. Alone.

Peggy slipped a hand into the box, pulling out a random letter. She pulled it closer and took in a breath before reading, “Oh my God, I wasn’t the only one faking battles on Minas Tirith. I can’t believe you liked Lord of the Rings as much as I do. We need to make a date and marathon the trilogies over and over again.”

Steve felt his heart swell. He remembered receiving this letter. It was when he and Bucky were first starting to heavily flirt with each other.

Peggy set the letter down, letting Steve see Bucky’s chicken scratch scrawled onto the paper. She pulled out another letter. “P.S, I keep your letters under my pillow in the barracks and read them every night.” She paused, sucking her lips in. “You’re not the only one with a weakness for old war movies.”

Steve grabbed the letter, tracing his fingers over the script. “I never did give him the shirt he was talking about in here. I made him one, but...forgot. It’s been in my closet since we started dating.”

Peggy smiled before reaching in and grabbing another letter. “Do you mind me reading these?”

“No,” Steve answered all-too quickly. He loved hearing the words Bucky wrote from her voice. It pulled back the memories of the thrill when he’d find a letter from Bucky in the mail. He used to stare out the window for the mailman when he wasn’t in class, just waiting and hoping Bucky was safe and replying to him.

Peggy reached in again. “Are these in any particular order?”

Steve shook his head. “I read them so much I kinda got them all mixed up.”

“Oh…” Peggy gasped. “This one...it’s the one when you thought he’d stopped writing to you.”

Steve nodded solemnly. “Read it, please.” He felt warm tears caress his eyes, threatening to spill down his bony cheeks.

“You, Sarah and Maggie, your letters are the best gifts I could ever receive. It was my squadron that got bombed. We got led right into a red zone and ambushed…” Peggy looked up at Steve, silently asking for permission to continue.

Steve nodded again.

“We lost a lot of guys that day. All I know is I didn’t wake for three days. I’m so sorry, Stevie. Please don’t be angry with me.” She was brushing over the letter, missing a lot of the context but Steve knew the words like they’d been etched into his heart. “Steve, did you see this scribble?”

Steve leaned over, looking down at the scribbled out words. “He probably spelled something wrong.”

Peggy flipped the paper over, holding it up to the light. “Oh no, Steve,” she sighed. “He didn’t misspell anything. He started confessing but changed his mind.”

“What?” Steve took the paper and looked the letters, V, O, L, I. “I don’t understand it.”

“He was saying “I love you.”

Steve felt the tears fall effortlessly. He clutched the paper, pulling it to his heart, willing it to become part of him. His small frame shook as he tried to suck in a breath. “Peggy,” he cried softly. “I love him so much.”

Peggy nodded, cupping his face and brushing a tear away. “Maybe it’s worth hearing him out. Peter kept saying none of this was his fault.”

Steve snorted. “We saw it happen, Peg. It’s pretty evident who was at fault.” He was still clutching the letter like his life depended on it. It didn’t matter if Steve knew ending it with Bucky was the best option, he still craved Bucky’s presence, still loved the man from the pads of his feet to the tip of his head. He’d hated himself for how much he loved Bucky. He witnessed Peter nearly die by Bucky’s hands and Steve couldn't bring himself to entirely sever his line with Bucky.

“You should keep these, Steve,” Peggy said, practically reading his thoughts. “I think they’re worth saving.”

Steve nodded, tucking the letters back into the box. He rested his hand against it, looking relieved and feeling like a weight had lifted from his chest. Knowing that Peggy felt this way was a relief. The situation was complicated, and Steve was by no means letting what happened go, but Peggy was right.

Bucky deserved to be heard out. Steve just needed more time.

* * *

 

“There you are!” Brock’s voice rumbled drunkenly. Bucky recoiled, pressing back into the counter as he sipped a glass of wine. “Been lookin’ all over for ya!” Brock smacked Bucky on the back hard, making Bucky wince and grit his teeth. His muscles hadn’t stopped aching since the day Steve walked out of his life. He was constantly exhausted and he never felt like making eye-contact with people. But here he was, at a Christmas party with Brock and some of his buddies. They were all a bit older than Bucky but they were kind to him and it was nice being around people who didn’t look at Bucky as a monster.

Who didn’t know what he was really capable of.

“Got you a present,” Brock continued. “Wanted ta give it to ya!”

Bucky furrowed his brow. “Brock!” he drawled in a deep whine. “You didn’t have to do that!”

Brock rolled his eyes. “Oh please, I barely spent anything. So, Merry Christmas, ya freeloader!” He laughed loudly, shoving a giftbag into Bucky’s hands.

He started to turn away when Bucky said, “Aren’t you gonna watch me open it?”

Brock shook his head, taking a swig of his spiked eggnog. “I think it’s something you should open when you’re alone. Don’t need nobody pokin’ over your shoulder.”

Bucky smiled. It was the first smile he’d given since “the incident.” He pulled Brock into a hug, squeezing the man. “Thank you, Brock. You’re literally a lifesaver.”

Bucky was sure Brock would never know how literal those words were.

Brock returned the hug, squeezing Bucky so hard he was sure his spine would snap. “No problem, sport. You n’ me, we’re family, ya know?”

Bucky pulled back, his eyes shimmering with tears. “You’re a sap.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Brock teased. “I got a rep to protect!” He laughed loudly, smacking Bucky on the back again before returning to the living room with the rest of his friends.

Bucky slipped unnoticed through the brownstone and onto the back porch. He sat down, actually enjoying the nip of the cold through his sweater. It was starting to get hot inside. Lighting a cigarette, he pulled out a small object, creasing his brow when he realized he had no idea what it was. It was misshapen, half cement and half smooth granite. There was also a letter.

 

 

Bucky smiled, looking at the rubble in his hands with more reverence now. It was so small and yet it had changed the course of history for Brock and everyone who cared for the innocent man. Brock had never talked about this before. He’d never even indicated to Bucky that a piece of him had died over in the war, but who was Bucky kidding? Every soldier had their baggage. He wasn’t any different. It was okay.

It was okay to be broken. It was okay to hit rock bottom. Bucky let out a laugh, it was strangled and foreign but it grew in volume till it shook his shoulders and brought tears to his eyes.

He’d hit rock bottom.

There was only one way to go now: up.

So he stood up, looked at the piece of rubble once more, throwing it into the air and catching it once. This gift meant more to Bucky than any present he’d ever gotten and it came from Brock Rumlow, the loud, rugged, slightly homophobic, and certainly sexist (whether he admitted it or not) Brock Rumlow and boy did it make Bucky’s heart soar. He slipped back into the house, maneuvering through the guests and hosts.

He paused when he saw Brock from across the room. The main raised a glass and winked. Bucky smiled fully.

He bolted from the house, running sloppily through the snow, feeling the cold burn his lungs and make his throat clench. Wheezing, he pressed on, desperate to get back to Brock’s street and into the house before the thoughts ran away from him. He had so much to say to Steve and he was terrified that each step he took was shaking the thoughts out of his head.

Upon reaching the house, Bucky shoved inside, slamming the door shut and plopping down at Brock’s deck in the study. He grabbed a pen and piece of paper and began:

 

Bucky sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He felt raw and split open but this was the only way he could do this. He just needed that closure or...or maybe he was holding out a glimmer of hope that Steve would understand. He stood up, grabbed an envelope and shoved the pages into it and out into the cold he went again.

He’d walked to Steve’s, it gave him a moment to gather his brittle emotions from the confession he’d just spilled on paper. He rocked on his heels as he watched the elevator light ding at each floor till finally, he was at Steve’s door. Shivers pulsed through his body as he moved. He was so close and he’d never been so far away. It was Christmas night, Bucky wondered if Steve was inside or if he was out with his friends. They were such a tight family he wouldn’t be surprised if they were together.

Bucky would also be lying if he didn’t admit he secretly hoped Steve would suddenly walk out that door. Setting the present and the envelop down, he turned on his feet, seeing Maggie, silently staring out her door.

“What’re you doing?” Bucky asked softly, leaning over, hands on his knees.

She slipped out the door and ran into his arms. “Bucky!” she shouted gleefully. “I made- I made you arts! Mommy’s got ‘em!”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky was kneeling next to her, letting her put her weight on his knee. “What’ja make me?”

“It’s a surprise!” she giggled out. “Mommy, mommy! My soldier’s here!” Maggie ran into the room, pushing the door open. Bucky followed slowly, poking his head into Maggie’s apartment.

Maggie’s mother was walking briskly toward him. She shoved the artwork into Bucky’s arms and growled, “Get the fuck away from my daughter you bastard.”

Bucky’s eyes widened as he stumbled back, whining in the back of his throat. Of course someone would tell her. With how closely connected Steve was to Maggie, it was only right. Bucky felt ashamed, embarrassment swirled in his stomach as he bit his lip. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“Mommy, what’s wrong?” Maggie whined loudly.

“Nothing sweetie,” Maggie’s mother said over her shoulder, never taking her eyes off Bucky. “Bucky doesn’t feel good, so he’s going to go home. He loves your gift.”

Maggie shrieked in delight, running around the room happily.

Bucky nodded softly, his fingers trembling where he clutched Maggie’s drawing.

“You better get out of here before Sarah sees you,” the woman warned. “She’ll kill you.” She closed the door loudly, the wreath on her door bouncing lightly.

‘This this is what it feels like...’

Bucky looked down at the art. Scribbles of what he assumed was supposed to be him and Maggie out at a playground and then the other picture was of Steve, Bucky and Maggie. Bucky wasn’t honestly sure what they were doing in that picture. He assumed a picnic because there was a watermelon.

With tears in his eyes, Bucky started down the long hallway, looking over at Steve’s door. He paused, touching the handle softly, feeling a shiver of remorse rock his spine. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Bucky had made it back to Brock’s easily enough. It’d been so cold out that his tears felt like ice on his face, though it was more of a feeling than a reality. He worried about the day when Maggie’s mother would actually tell her the reason why Bucky would never see her again and how she’d feel, knowing that Bucky was the reason Peter had been in the hospital. She’d hate him all over again.

Yet another life he owed that he could never truly repay.

* * *

 

When Steve got home he saw a small, wrapped package at the foot of his door. Crouching down, he scooped it up, looking at the envelop. It was Bucky’s handwriting. At first, excitement coursed through him, surging into his tired veins and making him feel wide-awake, then the shock of curiosity as to why Bucky had done this, and finally to anger. Bucky had no right, pushing himself onto Steve like this! Steve was supposed to be forgetting Bucky! This was his choice and he’d reside in the bed he made, no matter how cold it was. He brought the gift and envelope inside, tossing them roughly onto the dining room table, watching the envelope slide before finally stopping just before it fell.

“What’s that?” Steve’s mother asked. She was already in her pajamas.

“S’from Bucky,” Steve stated cautiously. He was more than aware of his mother’s newfound hatred for the name.

“He came to our door?” she yelled, standing from the couch and stomping over. “God! Steve if you’d been in the hallway!!”

“Mom,” Steve ventured, raising his hands in an attempt to calm her down.

“What if he’d caught you on the elevator!” She started pacing the length of the couch.

“Mom!”

“He could be stalking you for all we know!”

“MA!” Steve shouted, going red in the face. “We’re fine!”

“He almost murdered Peter! We should inform the police!”

“Peter said no charges.”

Sarah scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh please, that boy doesn’t have a bad bone in his body. Of course he’d say that! What if Bucky tries to hurt someone again! What if he goes after you?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Does this look like he’s going after me? He left me a gift. Sure it’s annoying but it’s just a present!” He didn’t know if saying “I know him better than that” was even valid anymore. Steve thought he’d known Bucky. Thought Bucky would never attack someone unprovoked. He’d been wrong.

“And then he starts coming around you at school! He’s enrolled at your school, Steven!”

“Mom!” Steve wailed in exhaustion, throwing his hands wildly. “Please! If things get bad we can handle it! Right now it’s fine! We got no reason to believe this was anything other than a last goodbye.”

“Oh yeah?” Sarah challenged. “And what’s in the envelope?”

Steve felt fire ignite in his heart. He was growing so tired of this fight. He was just as offput by the gift as his mother but he was giving Bucky the benefit of the doubt. He wasn’t always a threat… “I don’t know yet, ma!”

“I swear to the ever-loving Lord, Steve Rogers, if that man comes near this building, I will call the police.” She stared at him for a long, hard minute, making sure Steve knew damn well that she meant business. Finally, she walked over into her bedroom.

Steve stared at the gift and envelope, sucking in his lips and taking a deep breath. “Fuck you, Bucky,” he whispered before heading into his room. Not tonight. It had been a good night full of friends, laughter and Peter was delighted that they’d made a tree for him at the hospital. He had a few days left before being able to go home, but no one wanted to let him miss Christmas Day. It was like it’d always been, save for the hospital location and Peter lying in a bed. Steve, single and alone watching his friends smile, laugh and tease each other. Not everyone was hitched in their merry band of misfits, but some of them: Peter and Nat, Thor and Jane, Tony and Pepper. Peggy had been quietly skirting around her romantic status for a few months now, but she didn’t bring the person she was interested in to the hospital. No one knew of the person’s identity yet. Peggy was private like that.

Sighing, he pushed the good memories from his mind and went into his dark bedroom where he crawled into an empty bed, clutched his pillow and wondered what Bucky was doing at that very moment…

* * *

 

Bucky sat in the back of the classroom, listening to a man share about his time in the NAVY when their ship had been hijacked by pirates. Steve hadn’t said a word to Bucky. Two days till New Years, so it wasn’t like he didn’t have time to see the envelope. Bucky chewed on his bottom lip, playing with the hem of his sweater.

“Bucky? You’ve been pretty quiet back there,” Sam said, jarring Bucky from his lamenting.

“What?” Bucky blurted.

 

“Do you have anything you wanna share? About your tour?”

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t wanna share it, but I suppose keepin’ it in ain’t helpin’ nothin’.”

Sam shifted in his seat, cocking his head to the side. “This is a safe place Buck. You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.”

Bucky sighed, pulling out a picture of him and the full Commandos squadron. He stood up, handing the picture to Sam. “That’s my squadron. Most of those guys are dead now.”

Sam evaluated the picture before passing it to the person on his left.

“I guess my trauma isn’t that I got hurt or nothin’, but it’s cause I’m still alive and they’re not.”

Several people nodded.

Bucky licked at his lips, watching people look over the photo of the Commandos. “Those guys were my best friends. The ones who’re still alive, we sorta talk and we all got together recently but...it wasn’t the same. We all felt it.”

“Handling that guilt isn’t easy,” Sam lectured smoothly. “”You lost brothers and you best keep their memories as alive as you possibly can.”

Bucky nodded, crossing a leg over the other. “Being gay in the military…” Bucky ventured, looking around at the other men in the room. None of them seemed fazed, so Bucky kept going. “Those guys didn’t give a shit. They had my six and I had theirs. Watching them die…” He shook his head, eyes focused on a corner in the room. “It was like watching this fortress I built around me come down with every scream. And I couldn’t do shit about it.”

“Why not?”

“I was scared. Lost my gun in the initial explosion. Had a man back home that was rootin’ for me and I was too scared to be brave cause I thought I’d die and he’d never know what happened to me.”

Sam nodded slowly, his eyes flashing with more knowing than the rest of the class. “So when you go back to that place...what do you wanna do?”

“I wanna kill them,” Bucky responded flatly. “I wanna kill them before they kill us.”

“Is that what you saw? When you got triggered out in the park?”

Bucky swallowed loudly, his gaze darting around the faces in the room. No one was judging him, no sneers or whispers. They were all watching with somber, understanding eyes. Some of these people were in the same boat as Bucky. They’d hurt loved ones and that was their wakeup call.

“Yeah,” Bucky admitted, playing with his boot lace. “My friends turned to terrorists and I just...I wanted to kill them.”

Sam nodded once more, his lips twitching. “Good share, Bucky.”

After class, Bucky held back. He was supposed to go visit Peter today. With hands shoved deep in his pockets, he watched Sam finish up speaking to another class member before he turned on his heel and moved toward Bucky.

Bucky was feeling lighter. He wasn’t fixed. The biggest part of this class was to accept that there isn’t a cure but there is coping. Bucky would have to cope with this for the rest of his life, have to remember the guilt he carried for ripping the rest of Pinky’s arm off and watching Dernier’s intestines fall from his stomach… The guilt of not helping but not honestly sure if there was something that could have been done. He’d have to live with it for the rest of his life.

“You ready?” Sam asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” Bucky mumbled, following Sam out of the VA and onto the snowy street.

* * *

 

The hospital jogged memories of Bucky’s own time spent lying on a cot in a sick ward. He’d almost gone stir crazy. He could only imagine what Peter felt. He experienced so much more pain than Bucky had. Bucky hadn’t told a single soul, not even in the letter and not to Sam about why he’d been medically discharged from the military. It probably could be deducted at this point but Bucky had suffered mild brain damage and was classified as “shell shocked.” Add PTSD to that list and you had one unstable soldier. Bucky was unstable. He knew it, he just avoided it… Till that wasn’t possible anymore. But that was all his head. Peter had suffered physical injury and Bucky had been the reason.

With each step, Bucky’s stomach flipped in on itself, knotting so tightly he was sure he’d spew his guts out before actually reaching Peter’s room. He trailed his fingers against the wall, feeling the soft wallpaper against the pads of his fingers. He needed to keep steady, grounded. He kept his face blank but inside he was reeling. No one would be here to see this but Bucky was coming face to face with Peter, the very man he almost killed. Guilt had been ravaging Bucky’s body like moths to flame and he wasn’t sure how much of his willpower was left before he’d fling himself at Peter’s feet and grovel.

They arrived at Peter’s room. Sam knocked and pushed in, smiling when he saw the man on the bed. “Lookin’ good!” he greeted.

Bucky stood in the hall, his legs starting to feel like jelly as his knees wobbled unsteadily. His heart was up in his throat and English had abandoned him.

“Sam! Dude you’re just in time for Wheel of Fortune!” Peter called out excitedly. His face faltered when he saw Bucky. “Bucky…”

“He’s here because I’m forcing him to be,” Sam preempted.

“No!” Peter called out. “No, it’s great that you’re here, man. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

Bucky ran his tongue along his teeth, back and forth as he stood dumbly in the doorway. He hadn’t been prepared for that. He’d been prepared for screaming, maybe some cussing but not that.

“Don’t just stand there,” Sam chastised with a soft smile. “Take a seat, man.”

Bucky walked stiffly into the room, careful not to snap his shaky knees and collapse to the floor. His palms were clammy and when he finally sat he couldn’t stop shaking his leg as he sat across from Peter. Most of the bruising was down to greens and yellows and the stitches were gone but his face wasn’t exactly back to normal yet. Bucky honestly didn’t think it’d ever be. Some of those marks were going to leave scars… Guilt ground against his stomach, like his body was trying to digest rocks. This was all his fault.

“I...I don’t know what to say,” Bucky blundered. “I don’t-”

“Dude,” Peter said, cutting him off. “I get it. You got triggered. I watched it happen. That’s why I jumped in front of Steve.” He offered a crooked smile with pale lips.

Bucky sat forward in his chair, adrenaline searing into the backs of his eyes. “I could have killed you! Why didn’t you fight back?”

“Easy, Buck,” Sam cautioned.

Peter laughed, gingerly scratching at his nose. “Because I was trying to talk you down. Didn’t work did it?”

“If I had killed you…” Bucky began, running his fingers up and down his jeans. “Christ, Peter. You should’a beat the shit outta me.”

Peter snorted. “Contrary to popular belief, you probably could whoop my ass if we really came to blows and I’m good, man. I knew what I was getting into.”

“Steve,” Bucky mangled out of his throat, feeling tears cling against his eyes. “I almost…”

“You didn’t,” Peter professed firmly. “So you and I don’t have to have that talk. Steve’s safe and I’m alive.”

Bucky shook his head. Peter’s face was too calm, his demeanor too happy. He should be wailing at Bucky! He should be red in the face and busting open his wounds in anger at the man who’d caused him so much pain. There was no excuse for what Bucky had done. He’d ignored the signs, he’d pretended everything was okay when it wasn’t and Peter was the one who paid the price. “I think we broke up.”

Peter inhaled a long, deep breath through his nose. “Yeah I know.” He pursed his lips, flicking his brow once. “He’s in a lot of pain.”

Bucky nodded. His heart was slowly pumping, getting colder and stiller. He wouldn’t be surprised if it suddenly stopped beating. He needed the other half of it to function and right now Steve had it tucked away in a shadowy abyss. “How’s everyone else?” he asked through a sticky, dry mouth.

Peter blew a raspberry against his lips before licking at them. At least his mouth was healing. “Nat hates you. Clint wants to murder you, same with Tony. Thor’s good. He’s in England for New Years with his girlfriend. Peggy and Steve have their own demons to fight and I’m sittin’ here on my ass all day watching game shows.”

Bucky winced, listening to the lackadaisical tonality of Peter’s voice. It was like he was just discussing the weather! “Peter,” Bucky began, leaning forward once more. “I wanna apologize, for a lot of things.”

Peter cocked a single brow.

“I was pissed at you cause I thought you told Sam about me having PTSD. I got angry cause, I thought if you’d tell Sam then you’d tell Steve and I wasn’t ready for Steve to see me as,” he faltered, feeling a sob clench at the back of his throat. “I wasn’t ready for Steve to see me as broken. You know how he is. I wanted him to finally see himself the way I see him.”

Peter nodded, looking to Sam for a moment.

“I got pissed at the park, seeing you n’ Steve jokin’ around about callin’ each other fat and skinny and it just started tickin’ me off. I should’a stayed home. I knew I wasn’t feelin’ good. I just...I wanted to be with Steve so badly.”

“You love him,” Peter detailed. “It’s understandable.”

Bucky nodded. “When I heard that firework go off, I just lost it.”

Peter shrugged a single shoulder. “I saw, Buck. I told you I knew you were triggered.”

“But that doesn’t excuse this!” Bucky shouted, gesturing with his arms wildly at Peter.

Sam brought a hand down on his shoulder.

Bucky took in a deep breath, holding it for a moment and feeling his heart slowly start to pound harder as it worked to spread out the oxygen. “I don’t know where I go from here. I got no friends, I lost Steve. I didn’t realize I had nothin’ till everythin’ was gone.”

“What about your squadron?” Peter inquired. “Where are they all at nowadays?”

Bucky swallowed, shrugging. “Either still out on a tour or far away from here. We email each other, but that’s about it.”

“Brothers-in-arms aren’t so brotherly after you leave,” Peter lilted. “Same thing happened to me with my shipmates. People die and suddenly you don’t wanna be around the ones that survived. Just brings back memories.”

Bucky nodded. “Y-yeah.”

“Buck,” Peter began. “I’m still your friend. I’ll still be your friend. Regardless if Steve still wants you in his life or not. I forgive you. You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m alive and Steve is safe. That’s all that matters.”

Bucky wiped at his eyes, nodding once more. He felt like a bobblehead. Looking over to Sam, he chewed on the inside of his cheeks. “Am I makin’ progress?”

Sam flashed a bright smile. “Milestones.”

Bucky tried to smile but it fell before the curves of his lips even experienced the strain. This didn’t solve anything. Steve’s friends wouldn’t forgive him even if Peter did. They wouldn’t understand it the way Peter did, and even then, Bucky was astounded that Peter was so understanding. He felt lost, like he was wandering around in a maze. He knew his objective but he didn’t know how to get there. Peter was his friend, Sam was his therapist and Steve…

Bucky needed to start getting used to calling Steve his ex.

* * *

 

Three hours till midnight. Three hours till 2015. Steve was supposed to be at Peggy’s New Years Party. Today was the first day for Peter out of the hospital and everyone was at Peggy’s to bring in the new year, well, save Thor who was with Jane in England.

Steve stared at the envelope and Christmas gift Bucky had left. It felt like months ago but it was only a little over a week. Bucky hadn’t tried to contact Steve once after that. Steve wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved. He missed Bucky, but he understood why it was safer for him to not have him in his life.

His phone beeped for the third time, Peggy’s name flashing bright on the screen. Steve eyed his phone, watching it dim before going back off. He looked back to the envelope. With a shaky breath, he reached for it. Fingers smoothed over the paper before tucking under the mouth and prying gently at the adhesive. Steve hated knowing that Bucky had to lick this thing to get it closed. He hated thinking of Bucky’s tongue.

That tongue that trickled out the most delicious voice from it, said the kindest things… Felt so good on his a-

Steve shook his head, furrowing his brow as he popped the envelop open. He stared at the familiar chicken scratch, smiling through a breathy sigh. Running his fingers over the ink, Steve blinked a few tears from his eyes. These were the last words Steve would ever read from Bucky. He set his jaw, picking up the letters and began…

The text started easily enough, Bucky already knowing he didn’t have a chance at ever getting Steve back, a thought that actually made Steve’s stomach roll unhappily. But as the words went on, Steve found himself gasping for breath, choking back sobs and clutching the pages so tight he ripped one of them.

Pinky reminded Bucky of Steve, or Steve reminded Bucky of Pinky. Perhaps Steve would never know, but he felt one thing from that; humbled. Pinky had been a small soldier, someone who looked like Steve and that spoke volumes to Steve. Bucky had talked about the “little guys” and how they’d always go through the tiny cracks first. It was a slap in the face with how stupid Steve had felt. He was small, but he could still be so great. Just like Pinky, like any of the little guys running head first into uncharted territory behind enemy lines.

Steve had never heard of a story so terrifying. When he thought of war: gunfire, explosions and death sure but the little details, the intestines, the fear, the literal shit… The fact that Bucky had carried a man’s arm with him while he fought for his life. They never told you about that in the movies.

Bucky had held a dead man’s arm, an arm as skinny as Steve’s. He’d cried and screamed and the one thing he had to hold onto was Steve (and an arm to a fallen soldier)… Steve was the reason he didn’t jump first to try to save his friends. Steve was the reason Bucky had been so scared. Bucky had only wanted to live for Steve.

Tears dripped onto the pages as Steve read and reread them, committing them to memory. “Half my heart...and all of my soul…” Steve read the words aloud, practically hearing Bucky saying them now.

His phone beeped again. He ignored it.

He swallowed hard, setting the pages down with great care and reached for the gift. He slipped his small fingers beneath the tape and opened the present to reveal paints and brushes. “Shit Bucky…” he whispered. “These are so expensive…”

Steve clutched the brushes to his chest, sobbing freely. He missed Bucky. He missed the way he smelled, he missed lying his head against Bucky’s sleeping chest, feeling his head rise and fall. He missed Bucky’s kisses and his laugh. He missed Bucky.

Bucky wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t a sick and deranged, bitter human. He was scared and alone. He was thrust into a world where nothing made sense anymore, where clutching your dead friend’s arm was the only thing to keep you from losing your mind, where men ran at you with guns and uttered words you didn’t understand. Where ash was so embedded in the air it was like you were drinking it. Any human would be forever changed by such an experience. Steve had been so foolish! Not for one second did he actually think about just how bad it had been for Bucky! Not once did Steve think that Bucky’s smiles were just lies to cover up how sad and frightened he really was.

This was as much of Steve’s fault as it was Bucky’s. He should have been more receptive. He should have stopped wallowing in his own self misery and took a single moment to realize Bucky was suffering, dying slowly on the inside! But Steve… Steve just mewled and griped about his body and how much he hated it when it seemed to be the only thing that gave Bucky happiness. And now Steve had taken that away from Bucky too.

His phone rang this time.

“What!” he groaned into the phone.

 _‘Why aren’t you here yet? There’s someone I’d like you to meet!’_ Peggy said over the phone. Steve could hear people laughing in the background. He also swore he heard Clint screaming “motherfucker” about five times in a row.

“I’ll be over soon. I just gotta do something first,” Steve said, stroking his fingers softly over the pages of Bucky’s honest and unobstructed words.

_‘Steve! Please don’t spend New Years alone! I’ll bet I could get Sam to give you a New Years kiss!’_

“I’m good, Peg,” Steve replied. “I’ll be there when I get there.” He hung up the phone, uncaring if she had more words to say or not. Steve had made up his mind.

He wasn’t going to Peggy’s. He was going to see Bucky. Flinging himself from the dining room chair, Steve scooped up his peacoat, slugging it on and grabbing his boots. He laced them frantically and he was sure he accidently skipped a few holes but he didn’t care. Every minute wasted here was a minute Bucky spent alone. Steve wouldn’t let that happen anymore. Bucky didn’t deserve the ostracization that he’d been given. Even at Peter’s behest people were still reserved from Bucky, never referring to him as anything but a criminal.

Bucky wasn’t a criminal. He was hurting and had no idea what was happening and he needed support! He needed someone to cry on and someone to hold him at night! Christ! Steve was fuming at himself. He’d ignored everything that Bucky was feeling all because he was angry at being small. Bucky had lavished him with kisses, compliments, tears… Bucky had lifted Steve so high and Steve took each compliment, ground them between his teeth and spat them in Bucky’s face. He needed to be the one that took care of Bucky, to show Bucky that it was okay! That this was normal and they could, they would get through it!

Steve slipped on a patch of ice as he ran down the stairs of his building. He grabbed at the iron rod near the stairs, his ass slamming into the cement steps. “Fuck!” Pulling himself back up, he rubbed at his backside, whining as pain bloomed at the site. That would bruise.

But that didn’t stop Steve. He took off running. The cold winds and temperatures soaked into his skin, turning his lips blue and clenching his throat. He wheezed with each step, feeling tears slip from his eyes, unsolicited. Rubbing them away, he continued to run, slipping on the ice and snow as he moved across the street, barely looking both ways.

A car zoomed by right behind him and he silently thanked God he had better luck than finding himself plastered on its hood. Still running, Steve gasped for air, feeling his lungs start to constrict from the cold, panic and activity. He couldn’t stop. This wasn’t an appropriate time for an attack! Bucky needed him!

Clawing at his throat, he wheezed long and loud, willing cold air to fill his frozen lungs. He fumbled for his inhaler in his pocket, realizing it wasn’t there. His eyes rounded, fingers tingling as panic washed against him like a whirlpool. He slowed down to a jog, still wheezing.

He could see Brock’s brownstone. He was so close! Gasping for air, Steve power-walked the rest of the way, grabbing at his throat and praying he didn’t die from this. He’d been so scared that another minute wasted was a minute Bucky would leave him for good! Something Bucky said in the letter, about his life not being very long. Terror plunged into Steve’s chest. He cried out in pain as the thought seized his heart, tearing and twisting without mercy.

Hobbling up the steps, Steve started banging on the door, gasping still. He slipped down to his knees, trying his best to concentrate on his breathing but his lungs were just too cold.

He banged on the door again, his arms too weak to really onslaught the thing, just two short knocks before his fingers slipped down the door.

The world was spinning, wobbling frighteningly too fast and his lungs were heavy with ice. His inhaler sat at home, safe on the dining table or in his room, he honestly wasn’t sure at this point.

The door finally opened. A man stood there, older with big brown eyes. “Christ!” He turned into the house, cupping his hands over his mouth. “Hey Bucky! Some kid’s dyin’ on our door!”

Steve smiled, choking on air that fought against him to slip past his tongue. Bucky was here. Relief coursed through Steve like lava, filling him with a warmth that he was damn sure was all in his head. His fingers vibrated as he clutched his throat, tears warm in his eyes. Bucky would be here soon.

Bucky finally came to the door, poking his head out under Brock. “Steve!” He dropped down next to Steve, grabbing his face then his chest then his face again. “Shit, Stevie! Where’s your inhaler?!”

“H-h-ho,” Steve hiccupped out.

Bucky’s face was sheet-white. Whining in the back of his throat, Bucky scooped Steve up, bridal style, into his arms. He brought Steve into the warm brownstone, gently putting him on the sofa and pulling all the blankets around him. “Steve, you idiot! Whadja think leavin’ your house without it was good for?!”

Steve tried to laugh but a high-pitched wheeze past his lips. Bucky didn’t stop to question why Steve was here. He didn’t stop to think that Steve wasn’t even here for something good. Bucky saw Steve in trouble and he was responding to that with all his might.

Bucky pulled Steve back into his chest, elongating Steve’s torso. “Ya gotta breathe with me, Stevie,” Bucky instructed. He took in a big breath, pushing it out; tickling Steve’s ear. “C’mon you idiot! Breathe with me!”

“I got it!” Brock said as he came back into the room. “My ex was asthmatic. Thing’s expired but…”

Bucky took it anyway, shaking the medication up and shoving the apparatus into Steve’s mouth. “Try to suck it in, Steve.”

Steve’s body was pulsing; his eyes felt like they were being forced from his head. Pressure was building in his chest, so tight that when Bucky pulled the inhaler back, Steve screamed.

“Thadda boy,” Bucky praised. “Christ, Steve. What kind of asthmatic goes out in negative temps without their inhaler?!”

Steve took the inhaler from Bucky, pushing the medication into his mouth, acutely aware of how warm Bucky’s fingers were as they ran up and down his arms in an attempt to warm him up. “Stupid ones,” Steve croaked out.

Bucky laughed. “The stupidest,” he agreed.

As Steve’s lungs began to cooperate, they shared a moment of silence, Steve going a bit rigid in Bucky’s arms, shying away to turn around on the couch. Bucky’s lips were parted as he stared at Steve, his tongue moving erratically in his mouth as he fought for something to say.

“So you’re Steve, huh?” the larger man asked. Steve knew this guy was Brock.

“Yes sir. You must be Brock.” Steve swayed, getting his hands under him to lift up when Bucky’s hand came down on his knee firmly.

“Brock can come to you,” Bucky detailed tightly. He was panting, like he’d just shared the experience with Steve’s asthma attack.

Steve swallowed, looking back to Brock as he came around the couch and offered a beefy hand. Steve took it, wincing at the strength of the grip. He was absolutely sure Brock was holding back.

“Nice to finally meet ya,” Brock said, leaning back and shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ve got some work to catch up on. I’ll let you two catch up.”

 

Bucky’s face reddened as his eyes wildly traced Brock’s movements. If Steve didn’t know any better, Steve would think Bucky was actually scared to be in the room right now. Perhaps he was. Steve hadn’t said why he was here yet. Now actually faced with the moment all words seemed to fall flat.

Bucky looked back to Steve, pressing his lips together. He played with the trim of one of the blankets around Steve. “S-so, ja’have a good Christmas?”

Steve nodded. “S’okay. I used to drink a lot of eggnog each year, but…” Steve shrugged a single, delicate shoulder. “Made me sick this year.”

Bucky bit his bottom lip, nodding slowly. “Dunno what that stuff tastes like. S’it good?”

“If you like thick, eggy drinks?” Steve offered awkwardly. His face was heating up as he sat in front of Bucky, cross-legged and buried beneath covers that smelled so much like Bucky. So this was where Bucky slept when he wasn’t with Steve.

Brock had a nice home, modern decor and a nice, big leather couch but the smell of the blankets was what made Steve feel at home.

“W-why’re you here?” Bucky whispered, his eyes getting glassy.

Steve looked down, obstructing his blue eyes with long lashes. He sucked his lips in, running his tongue against them. “I read your letter.”

Bucky’s breath hitched. He visibly tensed up, the muscles twitching beneath skin. “I didn’t…” He let out a large sigh. “I didn’t think you’d ever talk to me again. I just...I just needed t’explain.”

Steve nodded, wanting to reach out and grab Bucky’s hand, to reassure him that he understood but it was too soon. Bucky was as brittle as glass. Steve didn’t want to come down on him too emotionally or too fast. “I appreciate it.”

Bucky’s lips twitched, ghosting a smile. “Yeah? I was worried.” He looked down at his feet; mismatched socks, one gray and one white. Steve hadn’t noticed before but Bucky looked different. Purple bags pooled beneath his red-rimmed eyes. His skin lost all the olive vibrancy it once carried and faded away to sickly yellow. Steve was sure he’d been wearing the same white tank for several days and from the grease that shined in his hair, he was just as sure he hadn’t showered since the day he put the shirt on. He was always so well put together. To see him in shambles like this… It made Steve’s heart squeeze.

“Thought maybe you’d...be more scared.” His words were barely above a whisper as he fumbled with one of his socks, twisting the fabric at his toes softly.

Steve sighed lightly, flicking his brow up once. “I was scared. At first. Peter tried to explain it to us at the hospital. Said that guys with PTSD get triggers and sometimes will lash out. But I didn’t realize why. I didn’t know you could literally lose yourself.”

Bucky worried at his bottom lip, his eyes spilling silent tears, each one pulling Steve’s heart further and further into the bowels of his stomach.

“Your letter...helped me work some stuff out,” Steve continued carefully. “I love you.”

Bucky’s eyes snapped up to look at Steve. Tears lazily rolled down his cheeks as he gaped in surprise.

Steve offered a soft, reassuring smile. “I love you, Bucky. If Peter’s not angry at you, I got no right to be either. You need someone right now. Broken guys like us gotta stick together.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You’re not broken, Steve,” he sighed out. “I wish you could see what I see.”

Steve snorted. “Well, how ‘bout putting it this way; you got half my heart and I got yours. Gotta put ‘em back together.”

Bucky’s arms were shaking as he swallowed hard; his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Steve,” he whined out. He leaned forward, throwing his arms around Steve’s frame and sobbing into his chest. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t- I didn’t ever mean to hurt’cha! I’m tryin’, I’m tryin’ so hard to get better!”

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, noticing the muscle definition wasn’t as pronounced as it used to be. He rested his head against Bucky’s, cooing softly. “I know, baby,” Steve reassured. “I know you’re trying. Sam’s a great therapist and he’s gonna help you get so much better.”

 

Bucky pulled at Steve’s shirt, fisting into the fabric. He moved closer, wrapping his legs around Steve’s torso and clung to him like a child; terrified.

Steve’s heart was breaking. He’d left Bucky to deal with this all by himself for too long. A month, Bucky had been alone, left to figure out what was happening to him all alone with the thoughts that the only person he loved hated him. “You’re so strong, Bucky,” Steve soothed. “I could never do what you’ve had to.”

Bucky wailed into Steve’s chest, his shoulders quaking..

“I’m gonna help you, Buck.” Steve couldn’t hold back anymore. He wouldn’t break down, not in front of Bucky, but he couldn’t hide the tears that slipped from his eyes and onto Bucky’s naked shoulders. “I won’t let you go through this alone.”

Bucky was whimpering and hiccuping, but he was now frantically kissing up Steve’s collarbone, up his neck and along his jaw. He peppered kisses, back and forth, hungry and frantic as he clung to Steve, his limbs still trembling.

“Bucky,” Steve sighed. “M-maybe slow down.”

Bucky dropped his head into Steve’s chest again, instantly backing off. He made no apology, he didn’t even look at Steve, but a triumphant elation flowed through Steve; trust. He wasn’t comfortable with the idea of getting intimate with Bucky like this, and Bucky instantly backed off. Monsters wouldn’t back off. But Bucky wasn’t a monster. He was just a wounded soldier.

They sat like that, Steve pressed against the couch’s arm and Bucky clinging to him with his arms and legs wrapped around him like he’d fall into the sky if he let go. They didn’t speak. The only sounds were Steve’s phone occasionally beeping and Bucky’s sniffling. Steve ran his fingers through Bucky’s dirty hair. He smelled pretty earthy and if he’d been anyone else in the world, Steve would have been opposed to being so close but this was Bucky. Half his heart.

_‘All of my soul...’_

Steve didn’t know what he was going to do about his mother. Regardless of the reason why Bucky attacked, Sarah wouldn’t look beyond the surface. Steve was small and Sarah was protective. He couldn’t hold it against his mother. Brock probably wouldn’t be thrilled to have two guys lounging around his house, so that was out of the question. They needed to find a way to move in together. Steve needed to find a way to explain to his friends, some of them still fuming and unreasonable, that Bucky wasn’t a criminal but just broken.

Steve held onto Bucky stronger, wrapping Bucky’s head in his skinny arms. He ran his fingers lazily through the brown strands, his fingers getting grimey. He laughed softly. He really wanted to suggest a bath but he didn’t want to be offensive.

“I stink, I know,” Bucky finally mumbled into Steve’s chest. “I haven’t showered since Christmas.”

“That was a week ago!” Steve cried out. “You could get an infection!”

Bucky snorted. “Sorry, dollbaby. I’m kinda stupid too.”

Steve scowled playfully, peering down at Bucky’s playful eyes over the bridge of his nose. He smiled brightly, placing a kiss against Bucky’s forehead. “You do stink.”

They chuckled lightly together, Bucky shifting back to sit right before Steve. He pressed his forehead against Steve’s.

Steve licked his lips expectantly. “Have you brushed your teeth in a week?”

Bucky smirked. “Honestly, I’m not really sure.”

Steve pressed his lips to Bucky’s. Shivers cascaded down his spine at the familiar, smooth lips parting for his. Slowly, he let his tongue caress against Bucky’s, gentle, playful laps. “I love you, Bucky.”

Bucky’s eyes were closed, a stupid grin on his face. “Mmm, I love you too, Stevie.”

“We’ll get through this together.”

“I know,” Bucky whispered.

 

“Do you have pictures?” Steve ventured. “Of Pinky?”

Bucky’s eyes rounded, his mouth dropping silently. “Y-you really wanna see ‘em?”

“Is it okay if I do? I don’t wanna pressure you or nothing.”

Bucky pulled back, standing and running over to a duffel bag. “N-no! I’d…” He swallowed hard, sighing. “I’d love to show you.” Bucky pulled out a small, black photo album. He hopped back onto the couch.

Steve, feeling slightly gutsy, pulled Bucky into his chest, pushing his legs out beside Bucky’s frame.

Bucky peered up at Steve, a bright smile on a face that looked too done with the world. He was beautiful, even if a fraction of what he’d been the day Steve saw him coming down the escalator at the airport. Bucky could have snot dribbling from his nose and pus leaking from his eyes and Steve wouldn’t turn him away (not that he’d honestly ever want to see that, but sentiment was there).

“You remember I told you that you ain’t no replacement for Pinky,” Bucky remained.

“I remember. I read it...today.”

Bucky cocked a brow, craning his neck as he looked at Steve. “Just today?”

“Right before I came over,” Steve admitted, dipping his chin. “When I first saw the gift, I was pretty angry at you. I just needed some time.”

Bucky nodded, turning back to the photo album. “I get that.” He opened it up, tracing his fingers along one of the photos. “These are all the boys. We had a girl in the Commandos but she hated getting her picture taken.”

Steve laughed. “I’ll bet she put up with so much.”

“Oh fuck yeah!” Bucky laughed out. “Poor girl. I’ll miss her.”

Steve’s heart squeezed. “She...die?”

“In the ambush,” Bucky affirmed. He flipped the page. There were several pictures of Bucky, taking selfies with various soldiers and even what looked to be a few civilians.

“We were pretty bored a lot,” Bucky explained. “Hence all the pictures.”

“I like that you’ve got a photo album of them.”

Bucky shrugged. “Someone else made it. The surviving Commandos all got one.”

Steve swallowed. “This Pinky?” he asked, pointing to a short, small man standing next to Bucky.

Bucky nodded stiffly. “I had the stupidest crush on him. He had wrists like you. Fingers were always jittery and he’d be off on a mile a minute the second you said hello. You’re a lot calmer. I like that better.”

“He looks spritely,” Steve evaluated. If things had been different, perhaps Bucky would have admitted his feelings to the short man with the sparkling green eyes and red hair. If Steve hadn’t started writing Bucky, maybe Bucky and this man would have fallen in love… Only for Pinky to die in the most horrific way possible, right in front of Bucky. Maybe Steve saved Bucky’s life this way. Watching a loved one die like that, well, it would destroy anyone. Steve narrowed his eyes, looking at Pinky’s face. “He have freckles?”

“He was covered in ‘em,” Bucky answered as he gently swayed his knees left and right. “You sure me showin’ you this is okay?” He craned his neck again, looking up at Steve with nervous eyes.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, we don’t have to,” Steve deflected.

Bucky sat up, spinning around. He put the album on the table. “I’m not uncomfortable. I just don’t want you to think for a second that there’s anyone out in the world that’s more perfect for me.”

Steve smiled. “I know. I’m flawless,” he teased.

Bucky’s eyes lit up like a Roman candle. He grabbed Steve’s face, cupping his cheeks. “But...you really are, Stevie. You _are_ flawless.”

Steve averted his gaze, chewing his lips. His first instinct was to recoil, to deflect the compliment and lament about how it was all a lie. But this was _Bucky_ , and Bucky loved Steve. To Bucky, Steve _was_ flawless. So instead, he leaned in, pressing chaste kisses over and over atop Bucky’s lips. He didn’t have to admit or deny Bucky’s sentiment if his lips were too busy kissing.

Bucky pulled Steve into his lap, guiding Steve’s slender legs around his body. Lips parted, tongues slipping out to greet each other in quiet kisses. Lazily, Bucky ran his fingers up into Steve’s hairline, swirling his fingers along the strands.

Steve’s body was humming. He wrapped his arms around his filthy, haven’t-showered-since-Christmas boyfriend. Their lips laced together, two halves made whole as they pressed so tightly against each other.

Bucky pulled back first. “B-Brock’s in the other room. I don’t think he wants us...doing this...on his couch.”

Steve nodded, placing a final kiss against Bucky’s red, shiny lips. “Do you think he’d care if we took a shower together?” It wasn’t the right time for intimacy like that anyway. Steve didn’t want their relationship defined by sex. He craved intimacy with Bucky, but different kinds. Hand-holding, cuddling, massages, leaning against each other and having toe fights. Steve didn’t want this relationship defined by sex.

Bucky looked up, rocking his head in thought. “Dunno. Maybe if we just do it?”

Steve laughed, slipping off Bucky’s lap to stand. “Lead the way?”

Bucky smiled, taking hold of Steve’s hands. They walked into the first floor bathroom. Bucky leaned over to turn the faucet on, hitting the lever to bring up the shower.

Steve stepped in front of Bucky, awkwardly grabbing at the hem of his shirt.

Bucky stared. “Let me?” he asked as he carefully ran his shaky fingers up Steve’s shirt. He pulled the fabric away from Steve’s shoulder, pressing soft, warm kisses against the skin. “I love your shoulders,” he whispered against skin. “Wanna kiss ‘em forever.”

Steve played with the waistband of Bucky’s pants, sliding his fingers back and forth as Bucky gently ran his hands along Steve’s chest and down his torso.

“Gonna kiss each rib,” Bucky mumbled, eyes heavy with adoration and desire. He got on his knees, slipping his hands up Steve’s shirt, pulling the fabric up. He nibbled at Steve’s hips, fingers massaging over protruding rib bones.

Steve always felt uncomfortable when Bucky got like this, but now, it wasn’t so bad. Bucky really felt this way about Steve’s body. He didn’t just lust after it, he worshipped it. Everything Steve had to offer, Bucky was waiting with bated breath. Steve laughed softly, feeling Bucky pressing kisses up his belly button and over to his ribs as the man started to stand back up again.

“M’gonna love you forever, dollbaby,” Bucky whispered as he caught Steve’s lips in his after discarding Steve’s shirt.

“We’re gonna run out of hot water,” Steve laughed. “Should get in.”

“N-nn,” Bucky protested. “You’re not naked yet.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the smile. “I’m gonna have to scrub a week’s worth of grime off you!” he taunted. “Make it snappy.”

Bucky snorted, undoing Steve’s pants and slipping his fingers beneath the briefs. His fingers brushed against Steve’s cock, sending shivers down Steve’s shoulders and into his loin.

“B-Bucky,” he hissed. “I don’t wanna…”

Bucky removed his hand, pressing kisses against Steve’s chest. “Sorry, baby,” he whispered. “You just drive me crazy.”

Steve pushed Bucky’s sweats down his thighs, yanking at his briefs. Bucky was half-hard and reddening. Steve felt slightly guilty but he really didn’t feel like doing this, not with Bucky’s crying form so fresh against the backs of his eyes. They’d been away from each other for a month, Steve wasn’t ready to hit the ground running again. “Get in the shower, Bucky,” Steve ordered lightly.

Bucky did as he was told, pulling the shower curtain and waiting for Steve to follow.

 

Steve hopped in, shivering from the warm water that sprayed against him. “Give me the shampoo.”

Bucky cocked a brow but handed the bottle to Steve.

“Gonna wash you, filthy boy,” Steve teased.

Bucky’s face lit up with one of his powerful smiles. He dipped his hair under the stream, getting his hair nice and wet.

Steve reached up, lathering soap into Bucky’s hair. “You need a haircut. S’getting long.”

“You don’t like it?” Bucky asked. “I kinda like the jobless hobo look.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Oh my jobless hobo. I’m so proud of you,” he said sarcastically.

Bucky giggled, dropping his head so Steve could massage down at his neck. “That feels good, Stevie,” he breathed out.

“Gotta get all the dirt.” He pulled his hands back, pushing Bucky to dip back under the shower stream. Steve shivered slightly from the water being blocked by Bucky’s head but soon enough the shampoo was out and Steve was back to getting some of the warm water against him.

“Body wash?” Steve inquired.

“Behind you,” Bucky said, nodding at the corner of the tub.

Steve turned around, reaching for a washcloth and the soap. He lathered up the cloth and started running it along Bucky’s arms, over his chest, up his neck. He could feel Bucky’s gaze, heavy on him, watching every move and twitch of his brow as he worked the soap into a lather.

He finally looked up, seeing those hazy, tired eyes.

“I like you takin’ care of me,” Bucky muttered.

Steve’s face went three shades redder as he stumbled for words to say. He concentrated on cleaning Bucky, rubbing the cloth down his stomach and over his thighs. “You can wash your own dick.”

Bucky pouted but he grabbed the cloth and cleaned himself properly. “What about my ass?” he suggested with a snarky grin.

“Clean it yourself, jerk!”

Bucky raised his hands in surrender. “Worth a shot, right?”

“We got plenty of time for that later,” Steve reminded. “It’s almost midnight.”

Bucky’s eyes rounded. “Oh shit! It’s New Years Eve!”

Steve furrowed his brow. “Yeah?” he drawled. “Did you seriously forget that?”

Bucky sucked his lips in, shrugging. “Maybe.” He scrubbed at his face, turning around to get the shower stream to rinse him off. After he was finished, Steve reached around him to turn the shower off.

Together they got out, grabbing towels and Bucky getting in as many snarky comments about Steve’s “perfect little ass” as he possibly could. Once dried off, they went back into the living room. Steve took that brief moment to slip back into his pants while Bucky walked over to his bag and pulled out a clean pair of gym shorts.

Bucky plopped onto the couch. He was wearing a towel on his head, all wrapped up atop his hair.

“You really need a haircut,” Steve laughed as he settled into the couch, leaning his head against Bucky’s chest. Bucky smelled fresh now, like the body wash. It was a thousand times better than the earthy, cheesy kind of smell from before.

Bucky turned the TV on, reaching an arm around Steve to run his fingers up and down Steve’s skin. “I can almost put it up in a ponytail though.”

Steve shrugged. “Whatever makes you happy.”

“Do you want me to cut my hair?” Bucky asked, flipping the channel to the New York Ball Drop.

“I want you to do whatever makes you happy,” Steve replied, pressing a kiss against Bucky’s bristly cheek. “But I do want you to shave.”

Bucky snorted. “Can do, dollbaby.”

Their eyes turned to the TV, watching celebrities be interviewed and perform. Steve hadn’t felt so relaxed since the day he watched his life get turned upside down. Still, this wasn’t fixed. Bucky was still seen as the monster even if Peter and Steve understood what really happened. Peggy was understanding, hell, she even encouraged Steve to talk to Bucky...but the others… Steve wasn’t so sure. His mother… She’d never forgive him.

He snuggled up into Bucky more, curling up into a fetal position and pressing his knees against Bucky’s chest with his head resting on the man’s shoulder. This was the intimacy Steve liked best.

Bucky pressed several kisses against Steve’s head before turning back to the TV. To the casual onlooker, they were a couple who’d always been a couple and didn’t just break up for a month because of one beating the other’s best friend nearly to death. Steve winced, remembering that day, the cruelty and animalistic expressions on Bucky’s face. Steve had been so scared. He hadn’t understood. Now, he knew better. Bucky had been terrified. That anger was just a man fighting for his life because he didn’t know any better.

Steve wanted to learn more. He wanted to really understand what to do for Bucky, especially if he ever got triggered when it was just the two of them. He wouldn’t deny that he was slightly afraid that would happen and next time, Steve wouldn’t be so lucky to have Peter there. It wasn’t Bucky’s fault. He’d seen people close to him die in horrific ways. He had to fight for his life, clutching an arm as his only sense of grounding point. Steve had to be his rock now. He had to make sure he kept Bucky safe. If that meant they skipped Fourth of July every year (despite it being Steve’s birthday) then that was fine. Steve was more than okay with hunkering down in their new apartment (he was thinking optimistic) with the windows covered and jazz music blaring. Perhaps they’d just take a bubble bath and fall asleep in each other’s arms. Steve liked that idea.

“Happy New Year,” Bucky whispered, jarring Steve back to the present.

Steve looked to the TV, watching the people celebrate and kiss on screen. He turned, frantically pulling Bucky’s face to his and sweeping those lips in for a needy kiss.

Bucky yelped but settled in, running his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“HAPP-” a rumbling voice boomed but cut short. “I should’a known you two would be swappin’ spit!”

Bucky pulled back, wiping his mouth and laughing. “Brock, I hate-love you.”

Brock put his hands over his heart. “Awe! I hate-love you, sport!” He pulled out bag of confetti from his pocket and tossed it up into the air, letting the small pieces of colorful paper flutter to the ground. “You’re cleaning that up by the way, freeloader!” He left the room, heading for the stairs.

People were banging pots and pans outside. Steve could hear the distant rumbling of fireworks. He looked to Bucky, his eyes etched with concern.

Bucky looked to Steve, clearly reading between the lines. “I’m okay, Stevie. I’m safe and you’re with me.”

Steve smiled, dropping his head against Bucky’s shoulder. “We’ll work through this.”

Bucky nodded. “All this time I was thinkin’ it was me havin’ to protect you. Ya know, cause you’re so pretty and small.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“You were the one protectin’ me all along.”

Steve felt tears well in his eyes. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious!” Bucky defended.

Steve sniffed, trying to pass it off as if he was just being bothered by dust. “Yeah, well… I’ll always be here to protect you.”

Bucky tried to smile, but it was twitchy, mangled and never reached his eyes.

Steve furrowed his brow, wondering what Bucky was thinking.

Bucky slotted his lips into Steve’s, kissing the blond lazily.

They held the kiss till Steve could feel his lungs protesting. He pulled back, licking the saliva off his lips. “I’m sorry- for having abandoned you.”

Bucky waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t. You didn’t know.”

“I should’a talked to you, Buck.”

Bucky shook his head. “You watched me beat up your best friend. I’m surprised you’re even here. Keep thinkin’ I’m gonna wake up and you’ll be gone again.”

Steve’s face soured. He bit at his lip, looking at Bucky’s chest. “Never. I’m always gonna be here. Forever.”

“You proposin’ marriage?” Bucky teased, stretching out his legs and arms.

Steve shrugged, watching the soft arch of Bucky’s back as the man continued his big stretch. “Maybe one day. Not really in a hurry to stuff myself into a monkey suit.”

Bucky’s eyes softened. He reached up to trace his fingers along Steve’s lips. “I love your lips.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’ve got the _worst_ ADD.”

Bucky giggled, shrugging. “When you talk I just get so distracted!”

Steve playfully smacked Bucky on the chest, listening to the hollow sound of his sternum.

“Ouch, killer!” Bucky cried out through a large smile. “Where you hidin’ all your muscles?”

Steve slumped back into Bucky, sighing heavily. Things weren’t better, but they were okay. Steve was going to take care of Bucky. He was going to show his friends what PTSD really was and if they still didn’t accept Bucky, then Steve would have to accept that. This was a life-long process that Steve was getting himself into. He was scared and a little nervous but the risk was worth it; the love of his life was worth it.  
They just needed to take it one day at a time. That’s all they could ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D I hope you liked it? Can you continue down this journey with me and Nerd?? X'D
> 
> (I really like good bro/father-figure Brock) XD


	8. Finding Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LIfe rolls on for Bucky and Steve as they face the new challenges of their relationship after reuniting. But it's getting increasingly difficult to find a home, and with Bucky's PTSD constantly a concern, an alternative therapy is met. Peter spills his secret to Bucky about why he's so concerned with helping him through these dark times, and Bucky finds in Peter a best friend he never knew he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i just wanted to take the moment to apologize for being so sorely late with updating this story. I had a terrible writer's block for this story and it took me over a month to just write the first half of the chapter. I struggled through the writer's block for the longest time, working on other fics to try and get my brain going again , and FINALLY after some awesome moral support, we have chapter 8 of P.S. I LOVE YOU!!!
> 
> Please forgive me for being so late to update this story. It was not my intention to leave anyone hanging. Hopefully Li forgives me for my trouble too. Please please please forgive me? ILY? I hope the quality of the chapter makes up for my absence?
> 
> *Elliot groveling on the floor and weeping*
> 
> EDIT: 12/30/2017: Due to photobucket BEING A DICKFUCK, the letter in this chapter was reduced to normal formatting. We have lost the files due to probably deleting after so many years and photobucket only shows the "image hosting" horrible thingie now on the file on their site so it's just...gone. :(

April 15th broke on a surprising clear, warm morning in New York that day. It had been a little over 4 months since Bucky’s break down in the park that had changed their lives forever, and Steve was beginning to find the days were growing far more stressful than he had originally anticipated. Since the news broke out that he and Bucky had gotten back together after the attack in Prospect Park, almost all of Steve’s friends had absolutely lost their minds, and the hellfire of text messages and phone calls had been nonstop ever since.

Currently, Steve was seated on Peggy’s sofa, Bucky’s head propped up in his lap as the two of them scanned over multitudes of apartment listings in the area. They had papers piled up everywhere around them, and the seemingly endless search was beginning to gnaw at both of their patience levels to the point of raw irritation.

On the table next to them, Steve’s phone buzzed again; honestly, Steve couldn’t remember if this was the 7th or 10th text message he’d gotten in the past hour, but he chose, instead, to ignore it once again, in favor of pouring over the newspaper in his hand. His brow furrowed in irritation as he tried, in vain, to ignore the buzzing at his left. When it rang a second time within a span of 10 seconds, Steve growled out in frustration and snatched his phone up from the table to flip through the messages he’d received in rapid fire sequence.

**CB [12:04pm]: Steve, I stfg, answer your damn phone. Tony has been blowing my cell phone up for the past hour! We get it, ur still with Bucky, but for fuck’s sake, just answer your texts instead of ignoring us!**

**Mom [12:32pm]: Steven Grant Rogers, you answer your phone right this minute! I am serious, if I find out you’re alone with James again, we are going to have serious words! I mean it!**

**[4 missed calls]**

Steve hissed in anger, shutting his phone off again and tossing it onto the side table with a loud clatter of plastic against wood. Thumping his head back against the cushion behind him, Steve groaned louder still, rubbing his hands over his face as he tried, desperately, to calm his temper before he exploded. In his lap, he felt Bucky’s head shifting slightly, and he looked down to see the brunet staring up at him with wide, sad eyes.

“I take it the cavalry’s, lookin’ for ya…” Bucky murmured, his tone low and apologetic. He reached up, threading their fingers together before pulling steve’s hand down to his lips. He pressed a line of kisses up and down the thin wrist in his grip and nuzzled his forearm before dragging Steve’s hand down to rest on his chest. “What’re they sayin’?”

Steve sighed and closed his eyes; he allowed himself the moment to relish in Bucky’s attention, and he tightened his grip around the larger man’s fingers for a moment, before he leaned over. Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky’s forehead, nuzzling it for a moment before he smiled down at him. “Nothing really… just the usual shit. You know, like the past couple of months have been…” he murmured, brushing his free hand through the long bangs on his boyfriend’s forehead. Ever since his friends found out that the two had remained dating, on top of looking for an apartment together, this torrent of nonstop badgering had been a thorn in Steve’s side. Their discovery had been entirely accidental. Steve remembered that day well; shortly after Bucky and Steve had gotten back together, the two of them had been out grocery shopping together, when Steve slipped down an adjacent aisle to grab some paper plates for Peggy’s apartment. He had run smack into Tony, who quickly put two-and-two together after having just seen Bucky earlier on, and had sprinted off before Steve could stop him, to tell the others. The reaping of text messages and angry phone calls had started shortly after that.

He’d tried keeping it to himself, but after a particularly grueling flood of phone calls one day, Steve had lost his cool and began screaming into a pillow in frustration, with Bucky just a few scant feet away from him. Momentarily, Steve feared that his outburst would trigger Bucky’s PTSD again, but miracle of miracles had kept the brunet sane enough to talk to Steve and get the whole story of why he was losing his mind so rapidly.

The two of them had fielded the influx of harassment together, but it hadn’t proven to be enough. With Steve still living with his mother, Sarah had to be the most difficult to deal with. It had become a game of sneaking out of the apartment whenever he could to even go see Bucky after she’d found out they were still dating, and with each night he went home and she was there, the barrage of questions was never ending.

Steve would never say he hated his mother.  She’d been there for him for everything in his life. Now though, Steve couldn’t wait for the day to come that he would finally get his own place and move out, just to avoid her constant, judgemental stare.

Bucky listened to Steve’s flippant answer, and he sat up from his spot. Turning to Steve, Bucky wrapped his arms around his slim waist and tugged him into his lap with a tired sigh. “This fuckin’ sucks…” he murmured, pressing tired kisses to Steve’s crown as he stared at the far wall. “They’re never gonna let up on us, are they…?”

Steve sighed, closing his eyes as he curled into the cocoon of Bucky’s arms. Resting his head against his chest, Steve listened to his boyfriend’s heartbeat for a long moment before he found it in himself to reply. “I dunno. I wish I knew, but from the look of things right now, I don’t think that’s gonna be for a while…” Steve murmured as he tightened his fingers in Buck’s shirt.

“I thought Peter was gonna go talk to ‘em, get them to start lettin’ up on me a little…” Bucky murmured, pressing his cheek to the crown of Steve’s head. “I mean, it’s not like I blame ‘em for bein’ so protective of ya, but…”

“He did,” Steve answered, looking up at Bucky. “I was there for a few of those attempts. Everyone’s just tellin’ Peter he doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about, and he’s being too nice to you. I dunno what the hell else to do. Peter doesn’t know either… he and Nat almost broke up over it,” Steve exclaimed, waving his arm. “When he told me that, I just… I felt really bad for him; he looked really upset.” Steve slumped against Bucky’s chest, closing his eyes again to soak up his warmth for some measure of comfort. “It’s the three of us against them. Sam can only do so much, and Peter’s trying his best to help us. It’s… it’s just gonna be a really long time before any of this really blows over…”

Bucky listened patiently, his hand tightening around Steve’s elbow as he huffed out a breath of air through his nose. “And your ma…?”

“We’re not talking about her,” Steve interjected quickly. His brow furrowed in anger at the thought of his mother’s heated words and judging eyes, and he shook away the thought before it enraged him further.

Bucky didn’t say another word. Instead, the two of them lay curled up on the sofa together, staring down at the apartments in front of them with some degree of defeat. Everything they had looked at within the area was far too expensive for either of them to afford at the moment, and with Steve’s student loans to pay off, and Bucky’s meager G.I. check, it was going to be a while before they could even afford the down payment on the rent. Bucky groaned a little, letting his head fall back against the cushion behind him as he stared up at the Stucco ceiling above him. “Man, we should just move outta Brooklyn altogether… we ain’t gonna be able to afford anything around here for a long ass time…”

Steve nodded, though the gesture was feeble and sad at best. “I know… I didn’t wanna leave, you know? But… it’s looking like that’s our only option,” he murmured, closing his eyes. He could feel the sting of tears against the backs of his lids and he inhaled slowly, to hide the tremor that wanted to rattle him to the bones. He hated the idea of leaving everyone behind; he truly, deeply, still cared for all of his friends and his mother, but for fuck’s sake why couldn’t they just leave them alone?!

The two looked up the minute they heard the door open to the apartment. Inside, Peggy slipped with a careful grace, her blouse looking a little rumpled and her hair a touch on the frizzy side. Steve raised a brow at her in surprise, sitting up in Bucky’s lap as he regarded his friend with a careful eye. “Uhh, Peg? What’s uh… what’s going on?” he asked, tilting his head slightly at her in question.

Peggy looked up, seemingly startled by the sight of the two men in her apartment, and she huffed out a laugh. “Oh, God! You startled me,” she chuckled. Quickly, she straightened her blouse out and ran her fingers through her wavy hair to tame the wild strands down as best as she could. “Oh, nothing. Nothing at all, sorry I disrupted you two.”

Bucky shook his head, wrapping his fingers around Steve’s wrist as he smiled at her. Steve adored the way Bucky looked at Peggy these days; she had been such a monumental help to ever since Steve came out and openly told her that he was still seeing Bucky, no matter what the others said. It was nice to have at least one other person on their side in this arms’ race against the prejudice. “It’s alright… I should probably be getting going anyway. Peter’s expecting me at the athletic club in like, 20 minutes.”

Peggy smiled and offered up a small nod to him in return. “Understandable. I’m glad to see you two are still going about your routine together. Is it helping at all?”

Bucky nodded, rubbing the back of his neck carefully as he offered up a small smile. “Yeah, kinda. At least it’s blowing off a bunch of steam in between sessions with Sam, so… I never wanna miss if I can. I can’t believe Peter even agreed to this, he’s still… you know, recovering.”

Steve waved his hand as he got off of Bucky’s lap to slip into Peggy’s kitchen for a drink of water. “Peter’s a stubborn jerk, you know that. When he gets an idea in his head, he doesn’t let go of it. If he agreed to helping you out, he’s gonna do it.” He poked his head back into the living room, giving Bucky a pointed look. “Just make sure he takes his Advair, or I’m gonna kick his ass for him.”

Bucky snorted and waved his hand at him. “I’ll make sure he takes it, don’t worry,” he added, standing from the sofa to grab his coat and duffle bag. Once he’d secured his things, he walked over to Steve’s side and pulled him into a gentle hug. “I’ll see you later, okay? We’ll talk more about the apartment tonight after my run and my session with Sam.” With a smile, Bucky leaned down and pulled Steve into a kiss. It lingered for a moment, though they kept it low-key with Peggy standing just on the other side of the room. When they parted, Bucky nuzzled Steve’s nose for a second before pulling away to make for the door. “See ya later, babe…”

Steve smiled at him, leaning his hip against the door-frame of the kitchen to watch him go. “Okay, Bucky. Try not to out-lap Peter again. I got an angry text from him complaining about you showing off.”

Bucky laughed, a genuine chuckle that echoed in the room around him. “I’ll do my best. Love you, Stevie.”

Steve felt a shiver run up his spine; he didn’t care how many times he heard him say that. Those words would always make his heart race in his chest until he felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore. Only in those moments, Steve would gladly suffocate if it meant he got to hear Bucky say it a thousand times a day. “Love you too, Bucky.”

With that, Bucky left the apartment closing the door behind him as he departed for the day. Steve stared at the door for a long moment, feeling a rush of giddy anticipation in his chest as he thought about his boyfriend and the end of the day. They may have had to sleep on Peggy’s sofa a few times, but it was well worth the cramped quarters if he got to fall asleep in Bucky’s arms again.

“He seems to be perking up a bit,” Peggy’s voice broke in, startling him from his thoughts. Steve looked up to see Peggy grinning at him from across the room, and he nodded slightly.

“Yeah… he’s doing better… still has fits though, sometimes, but he’s never lashed out again...” Steve murmured, glancing down at the floor. That one was a bit of a lie. He _had_ seen Bucky fly off the handle at least once again since the Park, but he hadn’t told anyone about that, least of all Peter and Peggy. Luckily, Bucky had chosen to punch a wall, instead of attacking it had been a serious wake-up call to both of them. Their problems were far from over, and they couldn’t turn to anyone for real help.

Peggy stared at him, her eyes narrowing slightly, before she inhaled and smoothed her hands down the front of her skirt. “I’ll take your word for it, Steve… has he gotten anywhere with Sam?”

Steve nodded, making his way back over to the fridge to grab that water he’d been looking for. Cracking the plastic top off of the bottle, Steve took a few swigs, coughing as the cold water froze his chest a touch too fast. He inhaled slowly, hoping his lungs would cooperate with him before he had to go dashing for the inhaler again, and he looked up at her. “Yeah. I guess so, at least. Bucky only tells me so much and I can’t ask Sam myself… so…” he trailed off, waving his hand slightly before he sat down at her kitchen table to finish his water in silence.

Peggy nodded, and crossed the room to sit across from her friend; she leaned over and took his hand in hers, giving his bony knuckles a gentle kiss before patting his wrist lovingly. “It’ll get better. You’ll see… then you can finally have that relationship unhindered, and you two are going to be so bloody happy together…”

Steve smiled a little, looking up at her. He really didn’t know how he could have gotten through all of this without his two best friends at his side, helping them when they needed it most. Steve really needed to shower them both with as much appreciation as he possibly could, and it still would never be enough thanks for everything.

But as he sat this close to her, he could see that Peggy looked a lot more rumpled than he originally thought, and his eyes darted downward. He spotted what appeared to be a faint bruise on the side of her throat, and his eyes widened slightly. “Speaking of relationships…” he asked, looking up at her with a teasing twinkle in his eyes. “What have _you_ been up to lately? That doesn’t look like you had just an innocent night out, last night…”

Peggy immediately brought her hand up to her throat, feeling the bruise that had been left behind; but instead of looking embarrassed, her eyes shone with a defiant, proud air, and she leaned back in her seat to smile down at him. “Don’t even give me that look, I’m not some blushing prude you know. Besides, you didn’t come to my New Year’s Eve party. You missed out on that big news already.”

“Aww, come on, Peg! Who are you seeing?” Steve begged, leaning over the table to smile at her. “What’s his name? When can I meet him? I gotta make sure he’s good enough for you! You took care of me, now let me do the same for you!’

“Nope,” Peggy answered, smiling down at him as she stood from the table with grace. “You’ll just have to wait and see for yourself. That’s your punishment for ignoring my beautiful invitation.”

Steve rolled his eyes but leaned back in his chair to smile up at her. “Fine… But I better meet this person, soon. Or else!”

“Oooh feisty. There’s the Steve I love so much,” Peggy laughed, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “Now out. I have things I have to do today, and I’m sure your mother may be looking for you. I wouldn’t want to anger her any further, if I were you.”

Steve flinched at her words, and he nodded. She was right; he had to face his mother. He’d already left the apartment for almost two days. He couldn’t hide from her, anymore. Besides, when he and Bucky finally found an apartment together, Steve wanted to move out of his mother’s home on good terms. The last thing he wanted was to burn the bridge to the last tie of his family he had. “Yeah… I better go…”

Peggy stopped and looked back at him; her eyes burned with sympathy and she smiled at him with a reassuring nod. “If you need me, just call me alright? I’ll be over as quick as I can…”

Steve didn’t answer her; instead, he rose from his seat and went to the door to get his coat and shoes. It was an odd April for New York; the random temperature drop had taken them all by surprise, and the streets were covered the finest layer of slush. He slipped his coat on carefully, relishing the thick wool that enveloped his tiny frame like a shroud. His mother had given it to him for Christmas… “No, Peg. It’s alright. I’ll have to face it on my own, this time.” he murmured, looking up at her. “But… thank you. I really do appreciate it.”

With that, he waved to her and slipped out of her apartment to step out to the chilly streets below. He looked up at the bright skies above him, steeling himself for the walk home that would surely only end in another fight. He fucking hated these fights. Why couldn’t life go back to the way it used to be?

Why? Because he’d chosen this. Steve knew that this was the path he’d chosen in his life, and there was no way he was getting out of it. He loved Bucky, and he would never turn him away, just for the sake of security and an easy road ahead. To the end of the line, and he was going to pursue that with Bucky, no matter what…

* * *

 

Their feet pounded the synthetic track beneath them, as Bucky and Peter ran side by side around the indoor track that they had grown to memorize by heart. By now, the two of them had learned where the odd dips in the floor were, and where to slow down for passing gym-goers that decided the track was a good place to cross no matter who was on it. They had both gotten to a first-name basis with the club workers, and were allowed unlimited passes to the gym whenever they showed up for their tri-weekly sessions.

Bucky felt a surge of adrenaline in his blood as he moved to circle the track for the umpteenth time that morning; honestly, he hadn’t believed Peter when the other had suggested that working out would be a good way to burn off his nervous energy, but Bucky had been pleasantly surprised to. After he and Peter had started working out together, he felt a hell of a lot less anxious as the days went on. Sure, they had to start slow, for Peter’s sake, but as he gradually healing, they began to run faster, last longer, and had even begun picking up weights to add to their routine together.

“Hold up! Wait a minute!” Peter gasped, his chest rattling slightly as he came to a stop in the middle of the track. Bucky turned in time to see Peter bend over, bracing his hands on his knees as he gulped down sharp lungful’s of air with greedy intention. He looked slightly paled, and sweat dotted his brow, until his hair stuck to his temples in wet ringlets.

Bucky felt a stab of worry in his gut as he jogged back over to his side, placing his hand on his back to steady his friend; it still felt odd, thinking of Peter as his friend, after everything they went through. But here they were, and his own heart rattled nervously in his chest as he watched his friend choke for breath right there on the track. “Whoa… you don’t look so good. C’mon, let’s go sit down.”

“Nah...” Peter wheezed, looking up at him with a tired smile on his lips. “It’s fine… just… need… to get my breath back.”

Bucky shook his head, gripping Peter’s shoulder as he helped him stand upright. “No. You need to take your meds. We shouldn’ta gone ten more laps, you were already getting tired twenty minutes ago.” With that, Bucky steered Peter towards their duffle bags on the other side of the gym, keeping his hand on his back the entire time, just in case he collapsed. Sure, he was probably being a little overprotective of him, but he sort of felt it necessary, given the circumstances…

Peter sighed, though the sound came out more of a squeak as he stumbled after Bucky. “Okay, fine… fine. But when I get my breath back, we’re hitting the weights, alright? I need to kick your ass at something for once!”

Bucky rolled his eyes at his response, but couldn’t hide the smile that crossed his lips. He’d learned, over the course of these four months, that he and Peter had a hell of a lot more in common than he had originally thought; honestly, Bucky felt that part of why he and Peter got along so well, was because Peter reminded Bucky of one of the Commandos. He, easily, could see that Peter would have been a proud member of the group, had their paths crossed then and not during this untimely affair. He tightened his grip on Peter’s back, giving his shoulder blades a gentle rub as he eased him through the tension in his lungs with careful words. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Just sit your ass down and relax, okay? Don’t want you keeling over on me…”

“Aww, Buck, I didn’t know you loved me so much!” Peter retorted, puckering his lips at him with a wicked gleam in his eyes. Even suffocating, Peter never knew when to shut his trap.

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, helping Peter sit down on the floor next to their duffels with a gentle hand. He dropped down next to him, bumping his shoulder gently as he watched him dig through his bag for the Albuterol inhaler. “Watch me take away your inhaler. Then we’ll see how much you love me.”

Peter chuckled, wheezing through the laugh as he plucked his inhaler out of the bag and gave it a good shake. “So this is what Steve goes through all the time… never woulda thought I’d get a taste of his medicine… literally.” Popping the cap off of the red depression piece, he stuck the spout in between his lips and took a hearty dose of the steroids. Leaning his head back against the wall behind him, Peter closed his eyes to let his medication work. After a few minutes, his breathing evened out again, and the color returned to his cheeks as his eyes fluttered open in relief. “Okay, I’m better. Another round of laps?”

“What?” Bucky asked, laughing at him as he leaned back on his palm. “Are you serious? So you can die on me? No thanks. Take a few minutes, I’ve got a couple hours before my session with Sam.”

“Well, I mean if you’re that tired, you don’t have to lie about it. Just admit it, I won’t judge you.” Peter retorted, nudging his shoulder back before he slumped gratefully against the wall for support. “Fine, no more laps... I guess I can deal with that.”

Bucky nodded, and dug his bottle of water out to take a swig. He passed the bottle to Peter, watching the taller man take a long drink as the two rested for the moment. His eyes never strayed from Peter as they sat together, and his chest constricted with contentment. Steve had been so good to him over these past months, but he couldn’t shake that most of this battle had been fought by Peter, the guy he’d almost killed over a stupid snowball fight. Guilt flooded him as he thought back to that day in the park. He still saw red snow sometimes when he closed his eyes, and he always woke from those dreams, expecting to see Peter standing over him with the NYPD behind him, ready to change his mind and drag him down into legal hell for what he’d put him through.

But still, Peter stayed true to him and to Steve, never straying from his path to help Bucky redeem himself for his actions. Peter was always two steps ahead of them with bubbly, positive affirmations that all would be well again. Bucky didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand how Peter and Steve could be so, unconditionally _good._

“Hey, Peter…” Bucky murmured, leaning his temple against the wall behind him as he watched his friend; Peter turned his attention to him, raising a brow in question to his inquiry. “Just… tell me something. You’re trying so hard to help me out, after everything I did to you. I wasn’t exactly nice to you in the beginning… and then I did this.” He gestured to his chest, indicating his still healing lungs, and his face twisted into a self-deprecating grimace. “I just wanna know why. Why are you so willing to help me out? Is it just for Steve? If it is, I’m not gonna be hurt or nothin’, but the truth would be nice to know…”

Peter stared at him for a moment, his smile falling away as he listened. After a moment, Peter looked away from Bucky, staring at the floor in front of them. He fiddled with the laces on his running shoes for a moment, and chewed his lower lip in a worried gesture. After a moment, He looked up at Bucky, and smiled a genuine, soft smile at him. “You know that I was in the Navy… and you remember how Nat brought up that whole thing with the pirates and how I was sort of… scarred by that, right?” When Bucky nodded at him, Peter looked down at his lap, and juggled his inhaler between his fingers to give himself something to do. “Did you know that there are different types of PTSD? I think Sam classified yours as Uncomplicated PTSD, right?”

Bucky nodded, unsure of where Peter was going with this. “Yeah? He said it’s pretty severe, but I’m working my way through it, now… Why?”

Peter smirked and shook his head. “You know I have PTSD too, right? Only, I got a different classification, and one that I’m really not proud of.” He looked up at Bucky and gestured at himself. “Comorbid PTSD. That’s what I have. Complicated by depression, past drug use and alcoholism.” He held his hands out to the sides, smiling at him. “Tada! I’m broken too!”

Bucky stared at him, his eyes wide in surprise. It had _never_ occurred to him that Peter might have had such a serious diagnosis himself; honestly, Bucky always thought that Peter was just trying to sympathize with him, and made up the whole thing, telling him he had the condition too. Peter never seemed down or upset. Peter _never_ struck him as the type to turn to drugs and alcohol! Fuck, Peter was always smiling and telling jokes! How did that equate to depression and PTSD at all? “But… wait, really? Are you serious?” Bucky asked, his jaw dropping open as the reality hit home for him.

“Yup. _Recovering_ alcoholic and druggie… mostly… but yeah, I got that in my ledger too,” Peter said, leaning his head back against the far wall. “I know about what you went through. Steve told me, but I wasn’t gonna say anything to you.” He paused, looking up at Bucky, as he chewed his lower lip raw. “Can I… can I tell you about mine?”

Bucky didn’t answer him at first; instead, he stared at him, struck dumb by this reveal, before he found it in himself to nod at him, silent as the grave. He couldn’t believe that Peter was so willing to share his story with him, but… he wasn’t going to turn down this moment even if he wanted to. He had to know what made them so similar. He had to know why Peter cared so much.

Peter nodded at him, and leaned his head back against the wall to stare up at the ceiling. His face fell into a worrying mask of somber distress as his mind recounted the moments that had changed his life forever.

“I was on the ship off the coast of China. It was pretty normal; there wasn’t anything really going on that day, and so our SO told us to go scout out the coast for anything we could find. We were on the tail of some pretty ugly people and we’d been looking for them for a few days. So I went with like three other guys, and we shoved off to the coast… That’s when it got bad. When we were far enough away from the ship, we got jumped by a bunch of guys and dragged onto their shitty, ramshackle boat and skirted away from the area. Our radios were taken away from us so we couldn’t call for help, and we got tied up in the underbelly of the ship. We were separated from the rest of our crew for like a week.

During that time, we found out that we weren’t the only ones that got picked up. A bunch of Chinese militants got picked up too, and we were held in the same cell together with them. We couldn't’ understand a word they were saying, but we… you know, we were silently planning how to take those fuckers down. Only it wasn’t that easy…” Peter murmured. His hands tightened around his ankles were he sat, and Bucky could see his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. “Every day, those assholes came down and started beating us with clubs and whips, trying to break us. Cracked my jaw in two places… Got a rifle butt to the face probably more times than I could count, and plenty of whippings to last me a lifetime.” he looked up at Bucky, and smiled at him. “We all did. But that wasn’t even the worst part…”

Bucky stared at him, his eyes stinging as he listened to Peter recount these moments to him. “What the fuck do you mean, that wasn’t the worst part?”

Peter nodded, looking down at his lap. “Every day during that week, the pirates asked us if we had information they could use against our own militaries. They had these big plans that they wanted to take over and end military rule. Deluded motherfuckers, but when we refused to tell them anything… they killed one sailor every single day in front of us. Gutted ‘em like fuckin’ fish. After the first three died, and they still weren’t getting anywhere, they started making us help them. Out of the four American sailors that went on that ship, three came back…” Peter’s voice waivered slightly, and he closed his eyes. “They made me hold down one of my own guys, holding a gun to my head… and I had to hold him down while they cut him open. I can remember, in exact detail, what it sounded like when he died… what it felt like when his life just left him.”

Peter paused, looking up at the far wall, his eyes brimming with hot tears and his jaw tightened as he forced himself to relive that moment again. “He kept begging me to help him up. I didn’t help him. I was too scared of gettin’ shot in the fuckin’ head to help him. So I let him die right there in front of me, covered in his blood and guts the whole time. When he died, they made me clean it up, before handcuffing me again.” Peter looked at Bucky, his eyes burning with fire. “I was so fucking furious at myself… at them… I’d had enough. I dislocated my own wrist, just to get out of the handcuffs, and tackled the guy guarding us. I was so fuckin’ mad, I bashed his head in against the metal wall until brains were flyin’ everywhere. I fuckin’ killed a guy like he was nothin’, because I knew that if I didn’t. We all were gonna die, and I couldn’t let another person go if I could help it.

“When I finally let go of him, he had no fuckin’ face left. I grabbed his keys, and unlocked the shackles of everyone there. Made ‘em all follow me, and we stormed the ship. We got shot up… I still got scars from it all… but we made it outta there. 12 guys against a whole rig of pirates, and we fought with broken bones, gunshot wounds… my wrist was still fucked up. But we did it.” Peter slumped back against the wall, staring straight ahead of him in a glazed, blank expression as his voice softened. “I got discharged from the Navy right after that, and sent home. I thought I was gonna be okay. I was like you… I didn’t think it affected me, other than the wounds they patched up on me, the broken bones they gave me from the beatings… the whip marks. Those wounds went a fuck-lot deeper than I thought.

“Within six months of being home, I was a raging alcoholic… started doin’ blow, drinking whiskey every single day, just trying to forget what it felt like to have intestines and brain matter on my fuckin’ hands. I still woke up in the middle of the night, screaming my fuckin’ head off, throwing up, crying... the works. I lost a shit load of weight because I couldn’t eat no more, and I pushed everyone away from me. Fuck I didn’t even tell Steve was home for most of that time period. I didn’t want him to see me like that.” Peter barked a small laugh, waving his hand in front of him. “I knew I had a problem. I knew I was scarred by what happened. But I couldn’t stop, no matter how fuckin’ hard I tried. I always went right back to the booze and the drugs, hoping that eventually I’d forget it all happened, or it would kill me.

“Eventually, Sam found me, and forced me into going to rehab. I went willingly, but… I think I fell off the bandwagon a few times before I finally started breakin’ through. Started goin’ to therapy, takin’ the right kind of drugs for my depression… gave up the coke. Sometimes I still relapse and drink too much, too early in the day. Sometimes I get drunk and embarrass myself because I don’t think I’ll ever get rid of the scars that bad. But if I had to keep one of those three things that were killin’ me, I’ll take the booze. ‘Least I know how to moderate that a bit, and I got Peggy and Nat to help me when I slide backwards some.”

Peter stopped again, finally turning his attention back to Bucky; his eyes were red around the rims, and watery as a few drops ran down his cheeks; but his smile was there, it was determined and it was meant all for Bucky. “You wanted to know why I want to help you so damn bad? It’s because I don’t want you to become like me. I don’t want you to fall so damn far down the rabbit hole that you’ll never be able to get out again. I almost didn’t, and I could never thank those that helped me out of that spiral, enough.” Peter reached over, and grabbed Bucky’s hand. He gave his fingers a squeeze and he nodded at him. “So I’ll keep workin’ out with you. I’ll ride you until you go to your next therapy session. I’ll always be here to tell jokes and make you feel better, because I know exactly what it’s like to suffer, especially when you feel alone.  I care about you, Bucky. Really. And I just want you and Steve to be happy. That’s all I want right now…”

Bucky didn’t move for a long moment; the only sign that he was even still conscious was his own fingers tightening around Peter’s hand as he held it. Fuck… fuck, he had no idea. How could he have ever assumed that Peter had no idea what he was going through? Peter had been kidnapped, tortured, forced to help kill someone… and he still came out of this with nothing but the deepest intentions to help someone else in need, just so they wouldn't go through what he did. Peter had never struck him as an ex-drug abuser. He didn’t even strike him as that emotionally tied to booze…

But it made sense now, seeing Peter crack open a beer at 9 in the morning, or order one too many drinks when he, Steve and Peggy went out with him at night; it made sense when Peggy would give Peter the ‘look’, and Peter would leave that drink behind, untouched and looking far more guilty than he really should. But Peter shouldn’t ever feel guilty. He was a fighter and a survivor and one of the biggest hearts Bucky had ever met in his life.

Theywere _both_ survivors, and there was no changing the bond they had developed, thousands of miles apart from each other and brought together as friends by one misplaced picture in a letter. They were kindred spirits that lived through horrible nightmares and still came back to the real world, with a burn to live as normally as they could possibly manage.

No, Peter couldn’t have just been _possibly_ one of the Commandos; he _was_ one of them, and Bucky would never, ever push that man away from him again, as long as he lived. If he could help Peter in the future, hand to fucking God, he would. It was the least he could do…

Sniffing loudly, Bucky scrubbed his hand over his face to dry the tears that had slid down his skin, unbidden, and he offered his friend a smile. “I had no idea, Peter… I’m so sorry for what you went through… I almost feel like mine... mine wasn’t as bad as yours...”

“You shut your cake-hole,” Peter retorted, pointing at him. His own skin was slightly pink from the struggle to hold back his own cries, but the wayward streaks of salt-water on his skin were unmistakable as he turned to face him head-on. “Don’t even compare the two. No one’s was any worse or better than the other. We just had different experiences, and we ended up in the same place. There’s no point in comparing it; just accept that you got it, and let me help you.”

“You really think this is a one-way street,” Bucky asked, leaning forward to level him with his own gaze. “It ain’t a one-way street, Peter. You’re gonna help me? I’m gonna help you, too. Whenever you fall off the wagon... If you relapse, ever, you fuckin’ tell me, and I’ll make sure I help you get back on. You wanna help me?” He bit his lip and looked down at the floor. “I’m gonna try my best to help you too…”

Peter’s reaction would be something Bucky would take with him forever as one of his biggest victories in life; he watched as Peter’s face fell away from his irate frown, to pure awe. His eyes widened in shock at his declaration, and his jaw fell open as he stared at Bucky like he’d never seen anything like him before. When he finally spoke again, his voice was timid, unsure, and he leaned back. “Are… really? You really…?”

Bucky snorted, and leaned back against his palms. “Yeah… I want to. You wanted to help me so bad, I want to return the help. You’re my friend, Peter… I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that.”

Peter stared at him for a moment, his shocked expression melting into the brightest, sunniest smile that had ever crossed his face. He lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, giving him a tight squeeze as he hugged him close. “About damn time you let me in, you idiot,” Peter said triumphantly, as he hugged him close.

Bucky huffed out a surprised sound, his eyes widening for a moment before he, too, burst into a laugh. He hugged Peter back, patting his shoulder happily, and leaned back to beam up at him. “Yeah… sorry about… everything. Honestly, I’m amazed you’d still want to be my friend after this…”

Peter waved his hand at him, and smirked. “I’m used to getting my ass handed to me. I’m here, and I’m alive. That’s not gonna change. Let’s just… put it in the past where it belongs and move forward… and focus on how I’m gonna beat you out of a couple hundred bench presses now!”

Bucky stared at him, his eyes widening at the sudden change in topic, before he barked out a laugh. Getting to his feet, he helped Peter stand up, before gesturing to the rst of the gym. “Yeah, I think after that good cry we both need to man up a bit. First to 200 buys lunch?”

“You’re on!” Peter said, giving his hand a hearty shake, before turning for the weight machines. However, he paused for a moment, and looked back at Bucky. “You know… something else to keep in mind that I can’t help you with…” he turned back to him and smiled. “Ask Sam about getting a service dog. They don’t just have ‘em for people who are disabled. They get ‘em for stress disorders too.”

Bucky listened, his interest piqued by that statement. “You really think a service dog could help,” he asked, intrigued by the notion. He followed Peter across the room, his mind pondering over how to ask Sam for such a service. Would it really help him? He didn’t really know… but… maybe…

“I dunno. Maybe,” Peter said, looking over his shoulder. “It’s worth looking into, though.”

Bucky nodded, falling silent as he followed Peter to the bench presses across the room. He pondered the possibility of having some sort of security he could turn to when he needed it, something that didn’t put Steve in danger, should he come down with another blackout spell. It seemed too good to be true… but it wouldn't hurt to ask Sam about it that day.

Feeling better than ever, Bucky followed Peter’s lead and lay back against his own bench, giving Peter a thumbs up as he gripped the handles of the leverage machine with a forceful grip. He was definitely going to be winning himself a free lunch that day.

Bucky couldn’t shake how good it felt to finally have aired out some of their issues together, and formed such a fast bond between them. So when Peter, to his shock, beat him to the marked 200 repetitions they had agreed on, Bucky didn’t even feel bad buying his new best friend the biggest pizza slice he could eat at the local shop. It was the beginning of a long, happy, and slightly aggravating friendship that Bucky knew he could never live without.

* * *

 

The weather had finally broken from its cold snap on a bright and sunny Saturday morning. This wasn’t the usual time for one of Bucky’s sessions, but after bringing up Peter’s idea about the service dog with Sam, Bucky had been expedited to the front of the line for receiving his very own service dog. Sam had promised him that the process might take a couple weeks to finish up, as the organization had to pair up their newest client with the perfect dog.

Bucky was surprised how much work went into finding the perfect service dog. He had honestly expected that they would just give him the next dog in line and train them both to work together. He had been both surprised, and pleased, to find that they wished to find the dog with the right temperament for his personal issues; anything less, would just result in poor therapy, and a dog that wouldn’t be receptive to his personal break-downs.

With this explained to him, Bucky had signed over on the proper documents and went on his way as the organization worked tirelessly to pair him up with his perfect service dog. Honestly, Bucky had been a little nervous asking Sam about the program, but he wasn’t about to take Peter’s advice and crush it into the ground once again. Look how well _that_ had worked out for him in the past. But when he’d openly asked Sam about the possibility of finding help outside his therapy sessions, Sam’s expression had gone from surprised to delight in record time. They had spent the rest of their session that day going over the proper paperwork and talking about what Bucky could expect out of this.

Two weeks later, Bucky stood outside Sam’s office at the VA, his fingers tapping nervously at his sides as he waited for Sam to arrive. At his left, Steve stood patiently, his shoulder leaned into Bucky’s side for support. Bucky had been a nervous wreck the entire morning, pacing Brock’s living room and ranting about how this had been a horrible idea, how he’d wasted everyone’s time with this stupid project. He had convinced himself that a service dog wouldn’t do him much good, and nearly had a break down right on the spot.

It had taken both Steve and Brock to calm Bucky back down, just in time to leave for the VA. , Bucky had spent the entire walk there apologizing profusely to Steve for his panic attack, their hands linked together tightly as they walked towards the grand marble staircase outside the building. Steve had, of course, assured Bucky that all was well, but Bucky couldn’t shake the fear that if this crashed and burned, how badly would he have inconvenienced everyone that had worked so hard for him.

Tightening his fingers around Steve’s hand, Bucky looked down at him and offered the tiny blond a small, nervous smile. “Thanks fer comin’ with me, babe… I really do appreciate it.”

Steve shrugged at him and leaned up; he pressed Bucky into a gentle kiss, threading his long, spindly fingers into the nape of Bucky’s hair. Bucky still hadn’t gone to get a haircut yet, but with the ever growing length, he had eventually been able to tie it back into a loose bun at the nape of his neck. Both he and Steve agreed that it turned out to be a much better look on him than they had anticipated, and so Bucky made no plans to cut it anytime soon. If the way Steve tugged on it occasionally while they made out had anything to do with it, he wasn’t saying.

“Hey, don’t even worry about it. I wanted to come,” Steve replied, beaming up at him. He wrapped his thin arms around his boyfriend’s waist and nuzzled up to his side. Bucky relished the feel of that tiny body wrapped around his own, and he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of Steve’s golden head. “Besides, I wanna meet the dog. Since he’s gonna be a part of our lives now, I figured I should make the acquaintance, yeah?”

Bucky smirked down at Steve and brushed his fingers along the defined jaw before him. “Yeah, you’re probably right. As usual…” he sighed, looking up to the vaulted marble ceilings above him. “Just wish Sam’d get here so we can get this over with…”

“I thought I felt my ears burning,” a voice piped up, startling Bucky from his thoughts. He looked down to see Sam approaching him, his clipboard in his hands and a bright smile on his features.

Bucky felt himself relax marginally at the sight of Sam, and he pushed away from the wall to greet him. “Hey, Sam. Sorry we were a few minutes early, hope that was okay…”

“Perfectly fine,” Sam reassured him, nodding to Steve at Bucky’s left before beaming at them. “Well? Let’s go meet your new life-partner. In the most platonic of senses, I might say,” Sam added, grinning down at Steve before he gestured down the hall with his clipboard. “Let’s go to the boardroom. They’re waiting there for us.”

Bucky nodded, and inhaled a slow, steady breath to ready himself. He reached down and took Steve’s hand in his, giving his boyfriend’s fingers another gentle squeeze before he followed Sam down the hallway. The three of them remained silent as they walked, and with each step Bucky took, he felt his heart ramping up a few beats. He couldn’t tell if he was nervous or excited, but the sore lack of anxiety he usually felt with his regular nervous break-downs was all but absent. He decided, then and there, that he was more excited to meet his dog than he had anticipated. Maybe… maybe this would go well after all.

The three of them stepped into the boardroom, and Bucky looked around, ready to spot a mop of fluffy fur, or a bright, cheerful looking pup, running about. He didn’t see one.

What he did find, however, was far more surprising and beautiful than he had ever expected in his life.

At the board table sat Peggy, Peter and Brock, and all three of them were smiling brighter than the sun as the stood from the table while Bucky entered the room. “Whoa... what… what are you all doing here,” Bucky gasped, his eyes stinging brightly with tears.

Peggy stepped forward first, her smiler brighter than the sun as she approached him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Peggy pulled Bucky down into a gentle hug, and pressed a kiss to his cheek in greeting. “We all wanted to be here for your big day, Bucky. This is such a big deal for you, and it’s wonderful that you’ve taken this step for yourself,” she murmured, looking up at him with bright eyes as she beamed. “We all wanted to support you. Is that really hard to grasp?”

Bucky felt his eyes stinging again, and he wrapped his arms around her waist; hugging her close, Bucky let his eyes drift shut as he relished what it was like to have this unconditional support waiting for him. Inhaling a shaky breath, Bucky opened his eyes and looked up at Brock and Peter who both wore equally proud smiles. He cracked one in return, pulling away from Peggy to regard them both. “I don’t…. I don’t know what to say!” he said, pulling Peter into a hug next.

Peter just laughed and enveloped him in a strong embrace. He clapped him on the back before pulling away to nudge his shoulder with his knuckles. “Don’t say anything. We wanted to do this for you, you idiot,” he grinned, and glanced back at Brock. “Plus we wanted to give you something too…”

Bucky blinked, feeling just slightly overwhelmed by this whole ordeal. He had expected some sort of support from Steve and Sam. He’d never expected Peggy, Brock and Peter to be there too, and now they had a gift for him? Bucky wondered, vaguely, what he’d done to deserve this amazing moment in his life. He broke a smile, watery and proud, as he turned to his roommate with curiosity in his eyes.

Brock smirked and stepped forward. In his hands, he had an envelope in his grip, and he handed it to Bucky with a little grace, and a sideways tilt of his head. “Go ahead and open it. They’re gettin’ the dog anyway, so you got time to read it.”

Bucky took the letter from him, his eyes darting down to the envelope in his grasp; he recognized Steve’s handwriting on the letter’s envelope, and he whirled back to look at his boyfriend with accusation in his eyes. “Did you know about this? Is that why you wanted to come,” he asked, raising a brow at him.  He still couldn’t fight the smile that wanted to crawl up his cheeks and flood his eyes with appreciation.

Steve just shrugged back, leaning to one side as he crossed his arms over his chest and beamed up at him. “Kinda figured you’d need the extra moral support right now. But yeah… I knew. I organized this.” His eyes darted down to the envelope in Bucky’s fingers, and he nodded to it. “Read it…”

Bucky tore his gaze away from his infuriatingly wonderful boyfriend, and glanced down at the envelope in his fingers. With a trembling hand, Bucky tore the envelope open and pulled out a single sheet of paper. On it, he recognized Steve’s handwriting again, but the content made him pause as his eyes skimmed over the letter.

_Bucky,_

_First of all, we wanted to start this letter out to you, to tell you how much we all love and care about you. Ever since that day in December, all of us could see how much the guilt weighed on you, and we wanted to tell you that we support and care for you, more than you could ever realize. Please never think that you are not deserving of forgiveness or support in your life, because there is no one on the planet that deserves it more than you do._

_You’ve been doing so well with your therapy, and all of us are so proud of everything you’ve overcome in these past few months. Never let anyone tell you that you're not strong, or that you’re not trying, because we all know how hard you’ve been working to better yourself. In just a few months, you’ve done what many people have never accomplished in their lives, and for that we’re all so proud of you. When we heard that you were looking forward to just a little bit more help on your journey, we were all so overjoyed! We all agreed that having a service dog in your life would be the best thing for you. Peter, especially, is glad that you took his advice and sought out Sam’s help for such an occasion. We know that you’re going to be so happy once you meet your new partner in crime, and we can’t wait to meet Jack._

_We’ve heard good things about this dog already, from Sam himself, and we think that you and Jack are going to be the best of friends through everything in life. Bucky, just remember that in life, it’s okay to ask for help. We’re all here for you, and we always will be. No one hates or judges you for anything that happens from here on out, and we beg you that if you feel you need a shoulder to cry on, you can always come to any one of us for that support. The road to recovery is long, but we’re going to be there with you, every step of the way. We love you, Bucky. Steve loves you the most, and we’re going to support your relationship to the bitter end, no matter what anyone says. Keep your chin up. Life is going to be so sweet._

_Love, Peggy, Peter, Brock, Sam and Steve_

Bucky blinked the tears from his eyes, not bothering to hide the sniffle that escaped him. He huffed out a watery laugh as he looked up at his friends, his boyfriend, his therapist, and offered them up a bright, sunny smile as he dropped the letter down to his side. “You guys…” he choked on his words, biting back a sob before he shook his head. “You’re all somethin’ else you know that?”

Steve beamed up at his boyfriend, slipping across the space between them to wrap his arms around his waist. He nuzzled up to him, planting a kiss on his cheek before he met hazy blue with bright steel, and he smiled. “We told you we’d support you no matter what, baby… I promised you I’d always be there for you, and everyone here supports you 100%.”

Bucky just smiled down at him, wrapping his own arms around his lover’s spindly shoulders, and giving his crown a gentle kiss. He looked up at Brock from over Steve’s head, and gave him a grateful nod. “Thanks. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Brock just shrugged off the thanks, leaning his hip back against the table behind them. “Ain’t nothin’, Buck.” he said. His voice trailed off for a moment, his expression falling thoughtful, before he spoke up again. “‘Ey, Buck... uhm. Got somethin’ else I wanted to say, too.”

Bucky looked up from Steve’s gaze, meeting Brock’s for a moment before he raised a brow in confusion. “What’s up?”

“So uh… Pete, here was sayin’ you and Steve were findin’ it real hard to get a place of your own. Thought I’d offer… at least until you two get on your feet yerselves… That office of mine ain’t bein’ used at all. If you want, you two can live there, rent-free, until you find yerselves a place of your own. If you want that is.”

Bucky’s expression faltered, from curious to stunned. He looked down at Steve, expecting to see that same, smug expression from earlier. What he was met with was an equally stunned look, and he knew that this hadn’t been part of the plan at all.

“Wait, Brock…” Steve spoke up, his voice barely above a whisper as he turned his gaze to the older man. “Are you being serious? You’d really let us live with you?”

“Just until you two get your own apartment,” Brock confirmed, smiling at the two of them. “The office is far enough away from my bedroom that I ain’t gotta listen to you two get the nasty on, but it’s all yours while ya need it.”

Now Bucky really felt like he was going to cry. He looked at his friend for a beat, before breaking away from Steve’s side to envelope his comrade in a tight hug. He didn’t even care if Brock’s response was a little awkward. He held tightly to him for all he was worth, thanking him vehemently for the genuine gesture. “You’re amazing, ya know that?”

Brock coughed, patting Bucky’s back awkwardly for a moment before pulling back. “Yeah well, I got my good days. Now are we gonna meet this mutt of yours or what?”

A chorus of laughter left the group around Bucky, and he felt a shiver of excitement zip up his spine. Now, more than ever, he wanted to meet the canine that would change his life from this moment on. “Yeah… I’m ready.” he said, looking up at Peggy and Peter.

Peter winked at him for a moment, breaking away from the group to approach the side door. He stuck his head out into the corridor beyond for a moment, before pulling the door open with a flourish. Moments later, a young woman with brown hair and cheerful eyes stepped into the room, a leash wrapped around her wrist. At her side was a large, but puppy-ish looking golden retriever with a little red vest wrapped around the barrel of his chest. The moment the golden retriever’s eyes landed on Bucky, the dog huffed the softest bark it could manage, and its tail began to wag happily behind him as he was walked with his handler towards the veteran.

Bucky’s eyes landed on the golden retriever, and every ounce of apprehension he’d felt in his chest melted away to instantaneous delight. He dropped down to his knee in front of the dog, reaching out his hands to the pooch as he smiled at him. “Hey…” he cooed, smiling brightly as the dog was walked up to him. “Hey, c’mere boy.”

The dog huffed again, trotting forward calmly as he sat down in front of Bucky. The moment Bucky’s hands landed on the dog’s head, the canine’s eyes drifted shut and he instantly began to butt his head into the soldier’s palms, rubbing up against his hands affectionately before he turned and began to lick Bucky’s wrist lovingly. Bucky’s heart cracked in two at the instantaneously affectionate behavior the dog exhibited, and he dropped down to sit on the floor, his legs sprawled out on either side of the pup’s legs as he tugged him closer. He noted with delight that the dog came willingly, practically crawling into his lap as he wrapped his arms around the dog’s neck and gave him a gentle hug. “It’s so good to meet you…”

Jack huffed out a quiet bark, and licked Bucky’s cheek happily.

“Well ain’t you two the tightest pair I ever saw!” The woman exclaimed, smiling brightly down at the two of them. She let go of the leash and let it drop to the side, stepping back to stand by Peggy’s side happily. “I’ve never seen a dog and a veteran bond so fast in all my time working with ‘em.”

“I told you, they’d be a wonderful pair, darling.” Peggy replied, wrapping her arm around the woman’s waist with a happy chuckle.

“I shouldn’a ever doubted ya, English.”

“Whoa, hang on,” Steve’s voice broke in, shaking Bucky from his moment. He looked up from the dog, and really took a moment to stare at the two women across from him. His eyes darted over to Steve, who looked just as surprised as himself, and he glanced back up at Peggy with wide eyes.

“Wait… are you two…”

Peggy snorted, in as dignified a fashion as she could muster, and rolled her eyes. “Yes. We are. You two would have known that if you would have bothered to come to my New Year’s Eve party.” Turning to her side, Peggy beamed at her girlfriend, and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Bucky... Steve... Meet Angie.”

Angie beamed and extended her hand to Bucky. “It’s nice ta meetcha both finally! English talks a lot about you two and I just couldn't’ wait to meet ya finally!”

At his side, Steve stared at his best girl for a long moment before turning and punching Peter in the shoulder. “You! Why didn’t you tell me?!” He demanded, looking up at his best friend accusingly.

Peter howled in mirth, rubbing his shoulder as he stepped away from Steve’s side. “It’s not my fault! Peggy swore me to secrecy! She said you had to find out on your own! It’s not my fault it took you four months to get with the program!”

Bucky stared at her for a long moment before tossing back into a full-belly laugh at the whole, absurd moment. At his front, Jack scooted closer and began to lick his face, his tail wagging a mile a minute. He looked down at the dog, still in peals of mirth, and rubbed the dog’s head soothingly. Almost instantly, Jack calmed back down, turning in the cradle of Bucky’s lap to settle down. “Good boy, Jack…”

Angie chuckled and dropped down to Bucky’s side. “Now there’s a few things ya need to keep in mind. Now that you have Jack, he’s a constant companion. He cares for you as much as you care for him. If someone comes up to Jack and tries to touch him without your permission, you have every right to tell them to back off. Even Steve has to be careful around him, so that he doesn’t distract Jack if you’re having an episode okay?”

Bucky nodded in understanding, smiling up at the cheerful woman before he resumed petting Jack’s head carefully. “I understand.”

Angie smiled at him and patted his shoulder before getting to her feet again. “Let’s leave the two of them to get to know each other. Steve you can stay in here if you want, okay?”

Steve nodded and dropped down to sit next to Bucky as handler and dog focused their attention back on each other. Bucky was so focused on the dog in front of him, he didn’t even hear the others bid him goodbye and vacate the conference room entirely. He finally did look up when he felt a hand land on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Steve smiling at him. “Hey…”

“Hey.” Steve replied, grinning at him before leaning back on his palms. “You like Jack?”

Bucky nodded, turning his attention back on the dog again. He didn’t really want to admit it, but he was fairly certain he’d fallen definitely in love with this dog at first sight. “Yeah… I really do.”

Steve chuckled and wrapped his thin arms around Bucky’s shoulders, giving him a gentle squeeze. “I can’t believe Brock is letting us stay with him….”

Bucky smiled and turned to face Steve. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, letting their noses brush. “I can’t believe it either.” He murmured, smiling at him. In his arms, Jack squirmed happily and licked his arm affectionately before settling back down into a comfortable weight in his lap. He had Steve. He had Jack in his life now. His best friend was letting them live there until they found their own place. He couldn’t have asked for a better miracle. “I can’t believe it... but I think… I think our luck is finally turning around.”

Steve beamed at him and nodded. “Yeah…” he murmured, kissing Bucky tenderly. “I think it is…”

* * *

 

Steve lay on his back, head pillowed carefully in the center of the mattress head as he listened to Jack lapping up food like a desperate man starved for a month. He smiled and looked down at the foot of the bed, where Bucky was knelt on the floor. Bucky was petting Jack’s neck as the dog ate his fill.

It was a little past midnight, and Bucky and Steve had been settled into their new “bedroom” for a couple hours now. After Brock had cleared out the office, it had only taken Steve and Bucky three hours, tops, to get completely moved into the room. Sure there were some clothes scattered about, but the two of them hadn’t felt so at home in the longest time.

Even Jack had become an instantaneous fixture in their lives, a stable rock that Bucky needed beyond what Steve could offer him. Steve wasn’t jealous of the dog for doing what he couldn’t; he was more than completely content to have Jack in his life, if it meant that Bucky could finally recover and become the happy man he’d fallen in love with over those letters so long ago.

Steve couldn’t shake the almost instantaneous transformation that had taken over Bucky just since that afternoon. Steve hadn’t seen Bucky smile this much in months; it was wonderful. Steve didn’t know how he could ever thank Angie and Sam for doing this for his boyfriend; honestly, Steve didn’t think he could ever properly thank them for this in his life.

“What’er you grinnin’ about?” A voice spoke up, startling him from his thoughts. Steve looked up to see Bucky smiling at him,and he shrugged a thin shoulder.

“Nothin’. Just like seein’ you happy, that’s all.”

Bucky smiled up at him, giving Jack’s neck one last, gentle pat, before he urged the dog to go lay down on his bed and stay put. When Jack curled up in the corner of the room, and lay his head down for some much needed sleep, Bucky crawled his way up the bed and stretched out next to his boyfriend with a content smile on his lips. “You know…” he murmured, wrapping his arm around Steve’s waist gently. “I couldn’t have done it without ya, right?”

Steve almost scoffed; it was a near thing, but he stopped himself, and really looked at Bucky lying next to him. Turning to his side, Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky’s waist, pulling himself closer to his large boyfriend’s front and tucking himself into his arms with a satisfied sigh. “I just… I didn’t want you to think you were totally in this on your own, ya know?”

“Well whatdya know,” Bucky exclaimed, looking shocked as he stared down at his partner. “You actually took a compliment from me! Call the newspaper! It’s a national event!”

“Oh shut up!” Steve giggled, slapping his boyfriend’s chest before leaning up to pull him into a kiss. He didn’t want to think about why Bucky thought it was so important to tease him, but Bucky was right. Steve barely ever accepted compliments. But today was a day for change for the both of them.

If Bucky was going to recover at all from this whole thing, then Steve was going to do his damnedest to find confidence in himself as well. They both needed to change their mindset. And like hell was Steve going to half-ass his own attempts while Bucky worked so damn hard to change himself.

Pulling back from the kiss, Steve looked up at Bucky, his giddy smile turning wistful as he looked into his eyes. Steve could feel his heart beating just a little bit harder in his chest, and his lungs quivered in that familiar tension he always felt when he was around him. “You know i’m proud of you, right Bucky?” Steve asked, smiling at him. He reached up a brushed his fingers along the brunet’s jawline, feeling the faintest scratch of stubble against his fingertips. “You did such an impossible thing today, and I couldn’t be happier for you.”

Bucky’s earlier cheer fell a bit, and he looked down at the mattress between them. “I couldn’t have done it without ya. And… and I know it’s gonna be hard from now on. What with yer friends and yer ma not… really not likin’ me at all.”

“We’ll get through that,” Steve said with finality; his jaw set in determination as he thought of his friend and mother, and how furious they could be at that very moment. “I don’t care what they have to say. We have a place of our own for now. We’re gonna get an apartment soon. We’re going to live _our_ lives, not theirs. And if they can’t accept it, then that’s on them. We got Peter, Peggy, Sam and Brock. That’s all we need.”

Bucky smiled at him, his eyes lighting up with sheer joy. He leaned in, pushing Steve back down to the mattress beneath them. Carefully pinning the smaller man to the bed below, Bucky gently wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrist, holding it above his head as he leaned in for a desperate kiss. The action was needy, almost hungry with want, as their lips crashed together, breaths mingling and tongues darting out into the warmth of each other’s mouths. Steve felt his limbs tingling with delight, and like habit, his thin hips rolled up against the broad body above him happily. “I love ya…” Bucky murmured into the kiss, letting their noses brush as he smiled down at his boyfriend. “I love you so fuckin’ much, you have no idea…”

Steve smiled up at him, his eyes shining bright and cheeks flushed; he wiggled his hand free to reach up and brush through the loose locks dangling from Bucky’s temples, and pushed the hair back from his face. “I love you too, you jerk. ” Steve whispered. His fingers danced back over Bucky’s scalp, down to the back of his neck, and he pulled him down into another kiss; this one was heated, with full intentions on display. Shamelessly, Steve wrapped his leg around Bucky’s waist, pulling him down against his own body as he rocked up into the warmth surrounding him.

Already, he could feel his skin prickling with heat and a low moan escaped him. The moment that light sound left him, Steve could feel Bucky’s lips trace a faint trail down the side of his neck, and a happy shudder ran up his spine like a bolt of lightning. Steve shuddered underneath Bucky’s touch, and his fingers tightened in the folds of his boyfriend’s t-shirt, pulling him closer as he continued to grind up against the warmth enveloping him. “Ngh… Buck…” he whimpered faintly.

“Shh, baby…” Bucky cooed, pulling back to smile down at him. “You know I’m gonna take care of you. Just sit real tight for me baby…” With that, Bucky leaned back and quickly undid the buttons of Steve’s shirt, one by one popping them from their eyeholes until the thin cloth lay puddled beneath Steve’s back. With his knees pressed into the bedding beneath them, Bucky straddled Steve’s lap, smiling down at him as he openly admired his torso, eyes dancing happily at the sight of his skin. “Missed seein’ this… I missed this…” Bucky paused, letting his fingers roam over the stretch of pale skin on Steve’s stomach. He let his palms dance over the jut of his hipbones from his sides, feeling the sharpness beneath his hands as he caressed the gradually reddening skin beneath him. “I missed seein’ you like this baby… you know how fuckin’ beautiful you are to me. I’ll never… _ever_ get enough of this…”

Steve felt that familiar embarrassment begin to flood his senses, making his cheeks darken in hue and his heart shudder in his chest. He very nearly curled in on himself, to hide his physique from the man above him… but he couldn’t do that to Bucky. Not now. Sure, he didn’t quite believe it himself, but… if it made Bucky happy to see him accepting his compliment- and admittedly, Steve was getting used to it and beginning to appreciate it for what it was, even mildly-  then he would openly do so. Instead of shying away, like his instincts told him to, Steve smiled up at Bucky, and stretched his arms above his head, giving his boyfriend a good view of his ribs as they stretched and pulled beneath the canvas of his skin. “You really got  a mean obsession don’t you, Bucky…”

Bucky groaned, his gaze drinking in the sight of his boyfriend’s nude torso with intent. He leaned down, planting his hands into the bedding beneath them as he pressed kisses into his chest. Bucky’s lips roamed over his body, tongue flicking out against a pert nipple. He swirled the tip of his tongue over the little peak of flesh and drew it into his mouth to nip gently at the sensitive bud between his teeth.

Steve gasped, arching up into his mouth as Bucky suckled his nipple, bruising the already sensitive flesh. Steve moaned into the air around them and found his hips rutting up against his boyfriend’s, until he was grinding up against him without shame. “B-bucky… Bucky, please!” he gasped; his eyes rolled to his skull with delight, already heightened in sensitivity by the display above him.

Bucky grinned and sucked harder, swelling his flesh and overstimulating him without remorse, before he pulled back with an audible sigh of delight. He looked up at Steve, his left hand grazing up his side, before he pinched Steve’s untouched nipple, and rolled it between his fingertips carefully. “You sing like a fuckin’ angel when I touch you. Everything about you is so fuckin’ perfect, I could cry.” Bucky leaned in, and attacked his chest again, working over both of his nipples with punishing intent.

Steve cried out, writhing beneath his boyfriend; unable to tell which way was up or down anymore, Steve’s hand found the back of Bucky’s head, fisting his hair in his fingers and giving the dark strands a tug. “Nnngh! Bucky…! B-be careful or I’m… I’m gonna cum too soon!”

“Already, baby? But we’re just gettin’ started,” Bucky cooed. Even with the innocent statement, his eyes blazed with wicked intent, and he grinned down at him. Leaning back, Bucky took the moment to completely tear Steve’s shirt from his torso, and then whipped off his own t-shirt from his body with an easy swipe of his hand. When he had the two of them shirtless, Bucky leaned down, attacking Steve’s belt with his fingers, until he had the worn leather flopping open and the button of his jeans undone entirely. He worked the cloth down Steve’s thin hips, pulling his jeans free, until he had Steve down to his underwear on the bedding. “So hard, already, baby…” Bucky cooed, letting his fingers graze over the jut of Steve’s cock through the tented cloth surrounding him.

Steve hissed, bucking up against his hand before he looked up at Bucky with accusation in his eyes. “Now you’re just teasin’ me!” Steve whined, throwing his arm over his eyes as he tried to get his heart rate to calm down.

“Never baby… I’m just here admiring you. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful I can’t even stand it…” Bucky stretched out between Steve’s legs, wrapping his fingers around the base of his cock through his thin underwear. He gave his cock a gentle stroke through the fabric, before Bucky’s hands were tugging Steve’s briefs down his legs, exposing his reddened dick to the air around them. Bucky paused, letting his eyes drift over the naked body beneath him, really soaking in the sight of his boyfriend, his lips cracking into a wistful smile.

Steve panted, feeling like his skin was on fire from the lust coursing through his body like lava. Fuck, he needed Bucky to just keep going, keep touching him! But when Bucky stopped, Steve found the strength inside him to remove his arm from his eyes, and looked up at his boyfriend. Steve felt a stab of worry the minute he saw the tears in Bucky’s eyes, and he tried to sit up. “Bucky? What’s wrong?!” he asked, his chest constricting in worry.

Bucky shook his head, looking up at Steve, before he smiled. “Nothin’, baby… just…” He paused, wiping his knuckle over his eyes before he gathered his wits again. “Just, when everythin’ was goin’ to shit… I didn’t think I’d ever get this with you again. I’m just… so, stupid amazed that you still want to be mine…”

Steve watched him, his own lips cracking into a gentle smile. He met Bucky’s gaze for a moment, letting the moment linger between them, before he sat up, pushing Bucky backwards, he toppled the taller man over onto the bedding, and straddled his waist. He didn’t care, now, that he was shamelessly naked, on top of his boyfriend’s lap. All he cared about, was showing Bucky that this was never going away; not as long as Steve could help it. “Well, guess I gotta prove to you that this isn’t ending any time soon,” Steve murmured. He leaned down, pressing Bucky into a kiss; the kiss, open mouthed and lazy, had the two of them reeling in delight, mouthing hungrily at the other until the air about them was filled only with the sounds of needy little whines, sloppy and desperate in their want. Steve rolled his hips back against his lap, feeling the hardened line of Bucky’s cock through his jeans.

“Fuck…!” Bucky gasped, the words muffled by their kiss. His fingertips dug into the bony hips above him, holding him steady as he undulated, writhing up against the lithe body in his arms as he kissed him back. “Fuck… fuck, baby… sit on my face. I wanna open you up.”

This time, Steve didn’t need to be told twice; huffing happily, Steve leaned back, and clambered up the bed, until he was kneeling above Bucky’s head; his knees framed his lover’s ears, and he smiled down at him between his legs, supporting his weight by holding onto the headboard of the bed in a tight-knuckled grip.

“No, no! Turn around, baby. Better that way,” Bucky panted. He smiled up at him, raising a brow in a teasing gesture. “Do I need to properly teach you how to sit on my face?”

“Oh shut up.” Steve giggled. He carefully swung his leg over Bucky’s shoulders, turning around on the bed before backing up. Once again straddling Bucky’s head, Steve leaned over to rest his palms on his boyfriend’s hips to steady himself. he looked back over at Bucky, grinning at him as he wiggled his hips a little in invitation. “Well, you gonna just leave me like this?”

“Fuck, I like this side of you,” Bucky groaned, his eyes darting from Steve’s to his ass; he licked his lips in anticipation, hands coming up to frame the pert rounds of his ass carefully. Spreading his cheeks, Bucky leaned up and licked a wet, wide streak up the expanse of skin, the tip of his tongue catching on the rim of his hole. Bucky leaned in, teasing the center with the tip of his tongue before wrapping his lips around the pucker of muscle and giving the sensitive area a gentle suck.

Steve groaned, his head falling forward as he panted raggedly. His lungs tensed up in his chest, but he fought down the ache he knew all too well; no fucking way was he going to ruin this moment because of his shitty lungs. Taking a deep breath, Steve steadied himself, and exhaled a puff of warm air against the warm skin of Bucky’s belly with delight. “Bucky… nngh..!” he whimpered.

Bucky teased his hole open, wetting it thoroughly with the flat of his tongue before he prodded forward again. This time, he gently worked his tongue into the tightness, massaging the muscles open with each flicker of his tongue. As he licked him open, Bucky’s hands massaged his ass, kneading Steve’s flesh with the tips of his fingers.

Steve moaned louder still, rocking his hips back against his lover’s mouth until he was sure Bucky’s face was buried in his ass. He could feel puffs of warm air against his skin, and he whimpered with each time he felt that sinful tongue curl inside him, running against the ridges of his walls until he was sure his hole was drenched with spit. Suddenly Steve felt a crack against his left asscheek, and he yelped out, looking back over to Bucky with a scandalized expression. “Buck!”

Bucky laughed, pulling back; he had an obscene smear of spit against his mouth and down his chin, but the look that danced in his eyes was nothing short of victorious. “Wanted to make sure you were still with me, babe.” He teased him, winking. He stuck his finger into his mouth, sucking the digit carefully before plucking his hand free. Without taking his eyes off of Steve, Bucky pressed forward, his middle finger breaching the steadily loosening ring with each little thrust he gave him.

Steve could have protested, but he didn’t have the heart. He whined in the back of his throat, feeling his cock throbbing desperately. He rocked his hips back, penetrating himself further onto that finger until he felt the knobs of Bucky’s knuckles digging into his skin. “Fuck! Fuck, Bucky… Jesus,” he whined. Instantly, a sharp zip of white hot pleasure pooled in the pit of his stomach when he felt Bucky’s finger graze over his prostate. Steve slumped forward, head resting on Bucky’s lap as he gasped ragged and gravely in the back of his throat. “Fuck! Fuck my ass… oh fuck, baby! Deeper!” Steve looked back, his eyes glossy with pleasure. “Fuck, hurry up. I wanna fuckin’ ride your cock, baby…”

“Shit, Stevie… Don’t need to fuckin’ tell me twice!” Bucky grinned. He withdrew his hand and sucked a second finger, getting his index finger wet and ready before he was prodding deeper into his ass; he scissored his fingers slight, stretching his hole in all directions, before he was leaning in and lapping at the twitching, hungry ring of muscle in front of him. “Gonna... get you all wet… fuck you so good…” he groaned between licks; he pulled back long enough to swipe his tongue up the length of Steve’s perineum, then dove back in, mouthing at his asshole until he was stretching him with fingers and tongue.

Steve whined, letting his head fall back to Bucky’s lap. No sooner had he done, so, however, he felt the line of Bucky’s cock against his cheek. Looking down, he saw the prominent tent in his jeans, could see the length of his dick twitching desperately for attention. He didn’t need to be told; Steve leaned in, undoing the button of Bucky’s jeans and pushing the cloth free to expose his dick to the cool air around him. Pulling him free, Steve wrapped his thin fingers around the base of his boyfriend’s cock, propping it up so that he could wrap his lips around the reddened head bared before him. Bobbing his head forward, Steve swallowed his erection down in three quick swallows. Sure, Steve may have had shitty lungs, but enough thermometers in his lifetime had definitely prepared him for this one thing. Grinning around his length, Steve dropped down, swallowing Bucky’s cock to the hilt, until his nose brushed the coarse hairs of his pubic line. Sucking firmly, Steve dragged his head back up, lips wrapped tightly around the silken prick, and then swallowed him down again without hesitation.

Bucky groaned, his tongue stuttering in Steve’s asshole, before he pulled back to gasp for air. “Christ… yer mouth is fuckin’ heaven, baby…”

“Get back to it,” Steve ordered, pulling off of his cock with a wet pop. He glanced back at Bucky, a dribble of saliva on his chin as he winked at him. “I’m not open enough for you. More… I wanna feel you drill me open. Drill your baby open, Bucky? You wanna do that?” He asked, pushing his ass back against his mouth without hesitation.

Bucky complied instantly. Lifting his hips up enough for steve to push his jeans down his thighs further, he went right back to work, lapping at his hole hungrily.

Minute dragged by, and neither of them stopped their tasks, sucking and fucking each other ready for what was to come. Finally, Bucky pulled back, grabbing Steve’s bicep in his hand and giving it a squeeze. “S-stop. Stop baby! I’m gonna cum if you keep that up!” he whimpered, letting his head fall back to the pillow beneath him.

Steve laughed, pulling off of his cock. He had definitely felt the first spurts of pre-cum down the back of his throat already. He leaned back, giving the tip of his cock a tiny, teasing lick before he threw his leg over Bucky’s chest to stretch out next to him. “Got the condoms?” he asked, looking up at him as he rested his head on the fold of his arms.

Bucky paused, his eyes widening before he cursed. “Shit! No… I’m out.” he said, looking highly disappointed as he let his head fall back to the pillow behind him.

Steve stared at him, his mind working overtime to try and remember if he had any. When he was certain he didn’t, an insane thought crossed his mind that perhaps Brock might have some. But then, they’d have to break their stride, _and_ embarrass themselves by asking their gracious host for rubbers on their first night in.

Then, Steve stopped. He bit his lip, looking down at the bedding before he spoke up. “You’re clean right?” He asked, looking up at Bucky. “I know I am…”

Bucky stopped, looking up from the pillow and their eyes locked. “You… you wanna go without one?” He asked, his voice lilting in hope.

Steve smiled, shrugging a shoulder. “We’re in this together, Bucky… just you and me. I don’t… I don’t see why not.”

Their gazes met for a long moment. Bucky stared at his boyfriend, lips cracking into a wide smile. Steve knew what Bucky was thinking; they had told each other they loved each other. They were in this together. But _this_ was the final step, that last leap that told each other they were together, for good. Bucky leaned up, wrapping his hand around the back of Steve’s neck; he tugged him into a kiss, slowing the pace considerably as he tugged Steve onto his lap.

Steve went willingly; straddling Bucky’s lap, the tiny blond leaned down, planting his hands into the pillow beneath his head as he leaned into the kiss. Steve nipped at Bucky’s lower lip to draw out a moan from his boyfriend, and he stifled a little giggle of excitement in his chest. “Yes. It’s what you think.”

Bucky just groaned in appreciation, wrapping his arms around the small of Steve’s back. He beamed up at him, eyes dancing merrily before he was letting go, long enough to reach into the drawer of the table next to their bed. Within seconds, he was withdrawing a tiny bottle of lube he’d managed to stash earlier, giving Steve an innocent shrug. “At least I was prepared for this part.”

“Oh, at the very least. What would we do without your quick thinking?” Steve asked, rolling his eyes to the ceiling as a fond smile crossed his lips.

“Shut up, punk.”

Steve didn’t speak again; instead, he leaned down, wrapping his thin fingers into the strands of Bucky’s hair, and giving it a tug. He pulled Bucky into another kiss, sucking his lower lip into his mouth before he let his teeth graze over the flesh in a worrying bite. He could feel Bucky’s hands shifting, hear the click of plastic as the cap of the bottle was opened up. Instantly, every nerve in his body fired off with anticipation, waiting for the moment he’d feel a slicked up finger press into his body. He kissed his boyfriend with everything he had, tongue lapping out to soothe away the sting Bucky surely was feeling in his lower lip.

He barely concealed the gasp that escaped him the moment he felt Bucky’s fingers prodding at his hole; they were slick and cold to the touch, but they only served to drive Steve crazy with want. Like habit, Steve’s hips rocked back against his fingers, begging for more as Bucky pressed on, penetrating his loosened hole with two fingers at once. “Auuh… Bucky…” he whimpered, lowering his head to Bucky’s chest. He pressed his forehead to the warm skin, feeling his body shuddering with each twist of Bucky’s wrist, each time his fingers spread, stretching him further and further until he felt as if he could stretch no more. Steve whimpered, feeling that ghostly brush as his fingers found his prostate again, and he shuddered visibly in his arms. “Bucky!”

“Shh, dollbaby…” Bucky cooed. He leaned up and pressed a kiss to the shell of Steve’s ear, breathing gently against the overheated flesh before his tongue darted out to lick at his earlobe. “Take it easy. I gotcha. I swear…”

Steve nodded. He leaned up, eyes meeting Bucky’s lustful blue as he stared into his very soul with a smile on his lips. Steve allowed himself to relax, rocking back against his fingers until he felt the knobs of his knuckles drilling into his tailbone. He’d definitely loosened up quite a bit since they started; Bucky’s tongue was sin and saving grace all at once, and Steve couldn’t have been more grateful that he’d been opened up so expertly with just his mouth already. “Add another…”

“Greedy, aintcha?” Bucky laughed. But instead of teasing him further, Bucky did as he was told, pulling his hand back enough to bunch three fingers together. He prodded up to his entrance, three fingers in triangular form breaching his loosened muscles with a gentle, slow slide. Once he’d seated his fingers inside his body, Bucky gentle spread his fingers, twisting his wrist to really spread the lube about inside Steve’s channel.

Steve whimpered, letting his head fall forward a bit; his fingers dug into the meat of Bucky’s shoulders, and he lolled his head to his own shoulder. Eyes half lidded, he looked up at Bucky, grinning at him before he leaned in to press kisses to the lids of his eyes. “Add another…”

Bucky just groaned, leaning his head back against the headboard. “Fuck, I don’t even got you stretched with three yet, baby…”

“I’m ready. Just do it.”

Bucky opened his eyes and looked up at Steve with glazed blue orbs. He swallowed visibly, and Steve giggled at the sight of his apprehension. To soothe his worries, Steve leaned in,his fingers cupping Bucky’s jaw carefully. He tilted his boyfriend’s head up and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I’m okay. I promise.”

Bucky whimpered again, though this time the sound was needy, and nothing like the uncertainty his words conveyed. He nodded to his lover and withdrew his hand just enough to bunch four fingers together. He picked up the little bottle of slick and squirted more onto his hand, really getting his four fingers lubed up before he reached behind Steve’s back again. He let his fingers graze over his loosened pucker, before pressing his middle and ring finger inside. He gave Steve a few good strokes before he was adding his index finger again. His hole accepted them readily, and Bucky thrust his hand against his ass carefully, really bending his wrist to get a good grip.

“Quit stallin’!” Steve laughed through a moan, his blue eyes rolling to his skull. His back arched, hips rocking up against his hand until he was displayed like an erotic statue, pushing back against his fingers, begging for that last finger.

Bucky smiled, and carefully pressed his pinky finger against the resistance. He hesitated for just a moment before he was pushing his pinky in past the ring already surrounding his three fingers. Steve could feel his body trying to eject that fourth finger, and he gasped, feeling stretched farther than he ever had.

“Oh God, Bucky…” Steve moaned, pressing his forehead to Bucky’s. HIs eyes fluttered open to stare into his, his lips slack in an ‘O’ before he leaned in for a kiss. This time, the kiss was powerful and commanding, and he pressed back against his fingers as his tongue flicked out, pushing past Bucky’s lips and into the recesses of his mouth. “Fuck… fuck me…”

“Shit, baby.” Bucky whimpered; he spread his fingers further inside his hole, all four seated warmly inside his channel to the second knuckles. “Think I can go deeper?”

“You do whatever you want, baby… just fuck me.” Steve whined, letting his fingers ghost back and fist the hair at the nape of Bucky’s head.

Bucky didn’t answer. Instead, he continued to twist and spread his fingers, working his hand further into his lover’s ass. When he had his four fingers up to the third knuckles inside him, Bucky groaned. “Fuckin’ hell… you’re stretchin’ so good, I could practically fist ya.”

“I’m _not_ ready for that.” Steve said, pulling back to slap his palm on Bucky’s chest. “Don’t you even think about it.”

“I’m not!” Bucky snickered, leaning in. He let his tongue trace over Steve’s throat, and he sucked a bruise into the veiny tendon just above his collarbone. “Just sayin’ you’re openin’ right up for me.”

“Then put your cock in me, soldier.” Steve said. He grabbed the bottle of lube from the bed and cracked the lid open again, getting a puddle of slick in his palm. When he had a decent amount in his hand, Steve reached behind himself, to where Bucky’s cock stood proudly, poking at his thigh. He grinned up at Bucky, wrapping his slicked up fist around his dick and giving it a few firm strokes, spreading lube along his length. Finally, he pulled his hand free and grabbed Bucky’s wrist. Extracting his fingers from his hole, Steve, placed Bucky's hands on his hips, and smiled down at him as he scooted back. He reached behind himself again to take his boyfriend's cock in hand, and held it up, until he could feel the blunt tip against his eager pucker.

“Fuck, Stevie...” Bucky moaned, rolling his hips up to brush against his ass. “I dunno how long I’m gonna last… watchin’ you, fingering you like that I'm…”

“Shh,” Steve murmured. He carefully lowered himself down, feeling his ass opening right up as he slid onto Bucky’s cock like a sheath. Bucky had done amazingly when opening him up, and Steve met very little resistance as he slid down, seating himself on his cock until he could feel his ass seated flush with Bucky’s hips. “How… How’s it feel with no rubber?” he asked, words quaking as he whined in the back of his throat; fuck, even Steve could feel the difference. His voice hitched in his throat and he had to bite his lip to keep himself from moaning too loudly.

They were together. As close as two human beings could possibly be, and now without the condom, Steve didn’t know if he wanted to cry from joy or scream from pleasure. Probably both.

“F-fuck… s’good.. oh fuck it’s good, baby.” Bucky moaned, his fingers tightening on Steve’s hips. He gave an exploratory thrust of his hips up into his body, and the both of them moaned in tandem, shivering at the raw pleasure they could both feel. “Oh fuck, no I ain’t gonna last long, now!”

Steve shuddered and leaned down, He pushed Bucky back into a kiss, his hands drilling into the pillows beneath his head. With this new angle, Steve lifted his hips up, and dropped back down onto his cock, bouncing just a bit as he reseated himself onto his lover's dick. “Then don’t wait.. fuck me! Fuck me, Bucky!” he panted, teeth grazing Bucky’s earlobe before he bit it and tugged sharply.

Bucky cried out, wrapping his arms around his waist to steady Steve's body. He pushed his heels into the bedding, giving himself just the leverage he needed, and then thrust up, picking up a fast rhythm as he rocked into him again and again.

Steve gasped, whimpering into Bucky’s ear as he dropped back onto his lap, meeting the thrusts as he bounced on his lap eagerly. He could hear the ancient bed frame creaking beneath their efforts, and he stifled down the laugh that wanted to bubble up and overtake the delicious moans leaving him. “Fuck… oh fuck, Bucky!” Steve gasped. He buried his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck, holding tightly to his shoulders as he rode out the maddening pace, drilling himself back against his partner below him. The slick-slide sounds of Bucky’s cock penetrating him accented the air around his gasps and his fingertips dug into Bucky’s shoulders as he held tightly for dear life.

“Jesus, Stevie!” Bucky gasped, his head thumping back against the headboard. His hands moved from his hips to grip his ass, and he spread his cheeks further, giving himself full access as he claimed him. Bucky leaned up, pressing his lips to Steve’s shoulder, and bit down into his skin, bruising the delicate flesh. “Fuckin’ beautiful… oh Christ, you’re fuckin’ beautiful, Stevie!”

Steve whimpered out, letting his head fall to the side as Bucky’s teeth sank into his flesh. He lost the momentum he had after a few minutes, and simply crouched over his lap, letting Bucky take the reins and fuck him stupid. “F-fuck… Bucky…!’ One particular graze of Bucky’s cock brushed against Steve's prostate, and he keened, his forehead thumping against Bucky’s shoulders.

Suddenly, Steve yelped as he felt Bucky flip them over, pressing his back to the bedding. Before he could even fathom what Bucky was doing, he felt his legs lifted up, and propped up on Bucky’s shoulders. He looked up in time to see Bucky leaned in, slotting himself back into his hole, sliding home with an easy thrust before picking up that same, crazed pace. “I ain’t gonna last, Baby…” Bucky panted, looking down at him. He pressed his hands to the mattress, using his elbows to keep Steve’s legs splayed out just right. “Gotta… gotta do it this way. I don’t wanna cum without you…”

Steve simply nodded, wrapping his hands around the back of Bucky’s neck. He pulled him down into a kiss, bent in half as Bucky fucked him into the mattress, bouncing his hips off of the bed as he splayed him open and took him without hesitation. Steve gasped into his kiss, tongue darting out to savor Bucky’s presence. He bit down onto the plush bottom lip, and cried out when Bucky’s thrusts assaulted his prostate head-on every single fucking time. Steve felt his spine tingling, his balls drawing up with every lightning bolt of pleasure that shot down his legs into his toes. He wrapped his legs around Buck’s neck, holding tightly to him. “Oh fuck! Fuck, fuck! Shit, Bucky!” he cried out, breathless and wanton.

Bucky whined, dropping down so his elbows were flush to the mattress. He did his best to hold his weight of of Steve as much as he could, but the clear signs of his impending orgasm were evident in his eyes. He pulled back from the kiss, looking into Steve’s too-blue eyes as he breathed in the scent of his musky sweat. “I love… love lookin’ in yer eyes… blue skies every time I look at ‘em. You make everything in my life so fuckin’ worth livin’ for. I love you, so much," he panted, ever determined to continued waxing poetic about his lover at every chance he got. “Fuck I can’t believe I got so lucky with you... fuck... nngh!”

“Bucky!” Steve whined. He tightened his fingers in his boyfriend’s hair, tugging the loose strands before he dragged Bucky into another kiss. His lower belly was on fire now, his cock bobbing between them as a puddle of precum formed on his belly, dripping from his twitching cock. “I fuckin’ love you… oh fuck, I love you!” Steve gasped, slumping back against the bed as he stared at the ceiling. “ _Uuuuh_!! I’m gonna cum!”

Bucky smiled, his hips never stopping their frantic thrust. He wrapped his fingers around Steve’s hand when Steve had placed his arm down on the bed, lacing their fingers together as he kept himself propped up. “Let go baby. Let go for me. I wanna see you cum. You make such a pretty face when you cum.”

“Jesus!” Steve gasped, tightening his fingers around Bucky’s knuckles. He felt like he was going insane, feeling Bucky splitting him so sweetly, filling him up with precum. Friction began to burn between them, the lube soaking into his walls as Bucky’s frantic thrusts never ceased. Steve howled, bowing his back from the bed as he pushed back against his cock, feeling Bucky bottom out completely until he could feel his balls slapping against his ass, feel the utter heat between them growing impossibly hotter.

It only took a few well placed thrusts to his prostate before Steve was snapping like a rubberband. He tensed beneath Bucky, his limbs going rigid at his sides, his knees locking around Bucky's neck, before a white wall of bliss rolled over him, firing off his nerves until his vision blacked out. He came with a shout, his cock spurting heavily across his belly in thick, sticky ropes of cum. His hole fluttered, clenching around Bucky’s dick until he was squeezing the life out of him. “ _FUuuck!’_ Steve sobbed, his fingernails digging into Bucky’s hand as he rode out the tidal wave of pleasure.

When his cock finally settled down, his orgasm abating, Steve went limp against the bed, his legs slipping from Bucky’s shoulders. But before he could even begin to consider Bucky’s lack of orgasm, he felt his boyfriend slip out of him and slump down to his side. He watched with a tired fascination as Bucky began to stroke himself hard and fast, his fist flying over his reddened cock.

“Nngh Nnh! Stevie!” Bucky whimpered, his lip bitten between his teeth as he jacked himself off. Steve watched with happy fascination as Bucky fucked his fist, his stomach tensing, and his face flushed. Finally, Bucky leaned in, a choked off groan in his throat as he came, spurting over Steve’s stomach until his cum intermingled with the mess Steve had already made “Auuuhhh! Ahh… oh fuck…!” Bucky gasped, his fist slowing down with each pump as his cock twitched, spasmed, and finally went still, eking out a final dribble of cum across his belly.

The two of them collapsed to the bed beside each other, panting heavily. Steve choked on a giggle, running his fingers through the sticky mess on his stomach. “Did you really have to do that?” he asked, looking up at Bucky fondly as he continued to trace patterns through their spunk.

Bucky grinned, taking a deep breath to calm his trembling lungs. Without saying a word, he slipped down the bed and propped himself up over Steve’s belly; carefully, he lapped up the mess, his tongue running flat and smooth over Steve’s stomach as he cleaned up their mess, swallowing down the sticky fluid with each eager lick. He looked up at Steve through the veil of his eyelashes, grinning a little as he cleaned up the last of their release with a delicate lick. Once he’d gotten Steve mostly clean, he stretched out, pillowing his head on Steve’s abdomen with a contented sigh; he wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist, holding him close as he peppered kisses along his sharp hipbones. “I did it just so I could do that to you...  you liked it, didn’t ya.”

“You’re so weird.” Steve giggled, running his fingers through the messy strands of hair pillowed on his stomach. Letting his head fall back to the pillow behind him, Steve breathed deeply, calming his trembling lungs. Miraculously he hadn’t needed to use his inhaler once, which he chalked up to a grand victory. “How’s it feel to have sex in our own place now?”

“Well it technically ain’t _our_ place, but it’s a start.” Bucky replied, looking up at him smugly. “But it’s pretty nice. Don’t gotta worry about someone walkin’ in.”

“I’m pretty sure Brock’s gonna avoid this side of the apartment from now on anyway,” Steve added, nodding sagely down at his boyfriend.

“After tonight? I think you’re right.” Bucky said, grinning up at him. “You were _not_ quiet.”

“Neither were you!” Steve giggled, slapping Bucky’s shoulder before grabbing him by the arm. He tugged him up the bed, and wrapped himself around his boyfriend’s body, nuzzling up to the crook of his neck with a contented sigh. But as the two of them settled into the bed together, tangling themselves into the blankets, they heard a whine come from the other side of the room. They both looked up to see Jack staring at them from his doggy bed, his head pillowed on his paws. If they ever got a more disgruntled look from an animal before in their lives, neither of them could remember it.

“Sorry, Jack.” Bucky said, feigning an apologetic smile at him. “Guess we shoulda put you outside before we started, huh.”

Jack just huffed and turned around on his bed, curling up in a ball with his back to the two of them.

Steve just grinned and snuggled back up to Bucky’s front. He leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips before settling his head on his chest. “Tomorrow, we really start looking for apartments of our own. I’ll get myself a job once I’m done with the semester, so we can both move out of here as soon as possible.”

“I’ll talk to Sam at the VA and see what they can offer for housing options for us,” Bucky added, looking down at Steve. He wrapped his broad arms around his shoulders, nuzzling a kiss into the crown of Steve’s head. “But until then, got to sleep dollbaby. I’m startin’ to drift off myself.”

Steve smiled, wrapping his arms around his back and holding tightly to his boyfriend. He closed his eyes and pressed his ear to Bucky’s chest. He didn’t sleep for awhile, just content to listen to Bucky drift off into slumber; content to listen to his heartbeat in a contented tempo in his chest.

This is how their relationship should have been this whole time. Steve knew they both had a long road ahead of them both when it came to Steve’s friends and mother. But they had Peggy and Peter to help them. They had Sam and Brock on their side. They could do it.

Nothing was going to stop the two of them being together now. Nothing on this whole green earth was going to stop Steve Rogers from loving Bucky Barnes. Not if he could help it.

 


	9. On the Mend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited for you all to see chapter 10. There's a huge artistic surprise and it's SO GORGEOUS!  
> That being said, enjoy!
> 
> Shoutout to [thealidoyle](http://thealidoyle.tumblr.com/) for being our beta of this fic!

Steve stared up at the building, a heavy weight pressing against his stomach. He was aware of every bone in his body and how his head slightly bobbed from side to side as his neck supported its weight. He swallowed thickly, coughing into the spring air. He hated pollen season.

“Do you want me to go up with you? Maybe she’ll just scream at me,” Bucky offered, running his fingers up and down Steve’s arm through his red cardigan.

“No,” Steve answered solemnly.

Bucky sniffed, his allergies seeming to get him as well. They both were taking vitamin c like it was candy to stave off colds. “I don’t like this.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Steve stubbornly shot back. “I’m asking you to just wait out here for me.”

Bucky huffed, leaning against the street post and reaching down to pet Jack. “I will. I’m just worried she’ll chain you to your old bed or somethin’.”

Steve rolled his eyes, a small kiss of a smile against his lips. “She’s my mom. She’s not into kinky shit like you.” He poked Bucky in the rib playfully, giggling when Bucky snatched up his hand to press kisses against his knuckles.

“Hurry back,” Bucky answered. “Me n’ Jack get lonely when you ain’t around.”

Steve looked down at the service dog, offering a smile, the red harness around the dog saying, ‘Do not pet me. I’m working.’

He turned around, mustering up some courage to move toward the apartment building.

Once up to his floor, he trudged through the hall and fumbled with his key. He missed a few times as his shaking fingers did little to assist him. Opening the door, Steve greeted the silent apartment. He breathed out a sigh of relief, moving to his bedroom to collect the last of his things. He’d been slowly moving things out when he knew his mother wasn’t home. Today though, he wasn’t sure whether she was there or not because he hadn’t been around since she got her last work schedule.

He was almost finished picking up the last of his things when a throat cleared in the doorway. He gasped, looking over at his mother. Her lips were pressed into a tight line and her eyes did little to hide the anger and betrayal she felt.

“How is it?” she asked plainly, though Steve could hear the disappointment deep in her throat. It rattled his bones like a bass drum rumbling.

“Fine,” Steve replied. He plopped a picture of him and Peter from the third grade into his box before turning to face his mother head on, leaning his weight onto one leg and crossing his arms.

“I see he got a dog.”

“Jack’s a service dog. He’s gonna help calm Bucky down if he gets anxious and he’s trained to bring him home if he ever gets disoriented or to navigate large crowds and bring him to family, friends or open spaces.”

She flicked up a brow in response before looking down at the box Steve clutched. “Do you have everything?”

“Yup,” Steve answered in finality. He picked the box off the bed, hovering when he realized his mother wasn’t moving from the doorway. She boxed him in like a caged animal, threatening and poised. “What?”

“I just can’t believe you think a dog is gonna save you from him.”

“ _Excuse_ me?”

“Do you not remember what happened in December? Steve, look at you!” She gestured her hand wildly at Steve’s person. “What if he gets angry with you? What if he has a nightmare and you’re the only one around for him to beat on?”

“That’s the point of the dog, Mom!” Steve hissed back, his fingers clutching the box tightly.

“I get Peter forgiving him. That boy would forgive a man for stabbing him in the back but I can’t let this happen. Steve, Bucky could _kill_ you!”

Steve’s heart froze, stilling in his chest like a lifeless work of art before turning to ash and crumbling. He shook softly as anger rushed through his veins, burning and searing each and every inch of his body until he knew nothing but pain and disappointment.

“Bucky will _never_ hurt me,” Steve said, his voice unusually low and threatening. He glared visceral rage at his mother.

Sarah sighed, pinching her brow. “I know you think that, sweetie–”

“Don’t ‘sweetie’ me,” Steve snapped. He took a step forward but then another back. He couldn’t barrel through his mother. That was his mother for crying out loud! She’d clothed him, fed him, and changed his damn diapers. But that sanguine relationship could only get her so far right now. Bucky was his life now. Bucky was working so damn hard to turn himself around and Steve would be there every step of the way and that was final. It was as final as a last breath and Steve meant it.

“I’m just trying to protect you!” Sarah said wildly, her hands a flourish around her. “All I’ve ever done is try to protect you!”

“I don’t need your protection!” Steve exclaimed. His heart was beating awkwardly in his chest and he was gasping a bit to keep breathing but he didn’t set the box down. He clutched it like it was the only thing holding him to the universe, desperate and with all his might.

Sarah stepped back, her hand pressing to her chest. “I love you, Steve.”

Steve looked away, feeling tears sting his eyes. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t say it when he knew how she felt about Bucky. Bucky was part of Steve. They’d blended their souls and stitched their very nerves together. There was no Steve without Bucky and there was no Bucky without Steve. He shook his head, swallowing loudly. “Please get out of the way, Mom.”

“I won’t bury my son,” she said, stepping out of the way.

Steve huffed, setting his chin and walking by her without so much as a casual sideway glance. “You won’t have to.”

Steve wouldn’t let himself cry. Not yet. Not in front of Bucky. He joined his lover outside, offering a strained smile that he knew didn’t reach his cloudy eyes. Bucky instantly took the box from Steve’s arms.

“I can carry it,” Steve whined.

“Fuck that. I don’t want you to.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but he said nothing. They walked down the street back to Brock’s in silence. Bucky wouldn’t ask, and Steve wouldn’t tell. He was sure Bucky knew everything he needed to from the way Steve kept wiping at his eyes and sniffling. He was sure Bucky knew how his shoulders slumped just a bit more than normal and how he walked all gawky and strained.

But Bucky didn’t ask, and Steve didn’t tell.

He didn’t tell how badly it hurt to leave his mom like that when all she was trying to do was show how much she loved him.

* * *

 

Steve was almost finished setting everything up in their new room when Brock came to the door, leaning against it with a dish rag in his hands. He sniffed to announce his presence. The couple turned to see him, both looking up at him expectantly.

“I made some potato soup. Figured you two’d be hungry.” He looked around the room, a soft smile at his tanned lips. “Looks good.”

“Brock,” Bucky began, running his fingers through his messy hair. “We won’t stay too long.”

Brock held up his hands, shrugging. “Bro, you’ve been with me for months now. You said that the first time. ‘Sides, I’ve got no family. You’re the–” He paused, swallowing a loud gulp. “You’re the closest thing I got.”

Bucky stood up, stumbling over the box Steve just brought home and fell into Brock’s arms. They held each other tightly, both slapping each other on the back and straightening up that awkward way macho men do when they showed too much emotion. Steve smiled, loving every second of watching them.

“Thanks, Brock. You’re my family too.”

Bruck sniffled again before clearing his throat and stepping back. “Soup’s on the stove. I ain’t servin’ it out.”

Bucky laughed, his shoulders bouncing lightly. Steve’s smile spread wider. He hadn’t heard that laugh in so long. Even Jack seemed to notice as he lifted his fluffy head and tilted it to the side.

Once Brock left, Bucky came back to the bed, plopping down roughly and messing up all the pictures Steve was looking at.

“Hey!” Steve protested with a smirk.

“Oops, sorry doll!” Bucky rolled over, lifting up one of the pictures. “God, you look like a drowned rat in this.”

“Thanks,” Steve responded curtly, snatching the photo. It was from when they’d gone to the cabin with some of Bucky’s Howling Commandos. Steve had just suffered an asthma attack and yes, he did look like a drowned rat but he wouldn’t go agreeing with Bucky’s comment. He’d worked hard to finally accept that there was nothing wrong with being small.

Bucky loved him. Bucky– with all his muscle and chiseled jaw, loved tiny and dainty Steve. Steve guessed that it was okay to be small, even if sometimes he wanted to clock people upside the head for being idiots. He was finally okay with it. Bucky thought he was beautiful, small and all.

“I just wanted to put together a photo album for when we move into a new apartment,” Steve detailed, slipping the picture into the laminate holder. “So we can pile them up in the living room and look at them sometimes. Got all our letters in one too.”

“So this is what you work on when I’m snoring too loud, huh?” Bucky teased, pressing kisses to Steve’s knee.

Steve sighed, scooting a bit closer to Bucky and letting the man kiss up his thigh before slipping his fingers under the hem of Steve’s shirt. “Yeah. You snore like a damn grizzly bear.”

Bucky laughed, leaning up to push Steve down onto the bed. He straddled the smaller man, tickling up his ribs, his lips spreading into a full smile as Steve shrieked in laughter.

“The door’s open!” Steve gasped, swatting Bucky’s hands away. “Don’t wanna abuse Brock’s hospitality.”

Bucky nodded, leaning forward to press kiss after kiss against Steve’s lips. “I love you so fuckin’ much. You know that right?”

Steve bit his lip, shocked by the intensity that swam in Bucky’s gray eyes. There was storm behind those irises, one of turmoil, fear but so _so_ much love.

“I love you too,” Steve whispered, caressing Bucky’s face. “More than anything.”

Bucky nuzzled his face into Steve’s collar, purring low in his throat. “Sometimes I wake up and forget you forgave me but then I remember and I get all grateful all over again.”

“Bucky–”

“No,” Bucky interjected. “No I gotta say it, Steve. I gotta babble to you about how much you mean to me. How grateful I am that you took a chance with me. I’m shit. I’m such shit and you–” He leaned back on his ankles, gesturing to Steve. “You’re a piece of art designed by God. I don’t know who the sonuvabitch was that paired us for the Mail-A-Militant program but I thank _God_ they exist and that they did it. Every fuckin’ day.”

“Thought you weren’t much for religion,” Steve attempted, feeling a blush heat up his face and shoulders, swelling his heart with warmth.

“I’m not. But lookin’ at you made me a believer.” He flipped his legs around, wrapping them around Steve’s waist and pulling Steve’s legs around him. He kissed the tip of Steve’s nose, then his cheeks, eyelids and forehead. “I can’t exist without you.”

Steve laughed, pressing a chaste kiss to Bucky’s lips, leaning back to let his shirt fall down one shoulder to expose flesh. “You’re insane.”

“The worst kind,” Bucky teased, reaching out to touch Steve’s exposed shoulder. “You’ve got the softest skin.”

“You tell me all the time,” Steve laughed. “I wanna keep scrapbooking.”

Bucky whined but nevertheless leaned back and uncoiled his legs from Steve. “I’ll make us some soup. You want crackers with yours?”

“No thank you.”

“You can eat things with egg in them, Stevie. It won’t kill me as long as you’re not shovin’ it down my throat.”

“I don’t want soup crackers, baby,” Steve reaffirmed. “And I don’t miss omelets either.”

Bucky laughed, tossing his head to the side– his shaggy hair bouncing with him. God, Steve loved his long hair. “I’m glad. Makes makin’ you breakfast in the mornin’ so much easier when I don’t gotta wear five pairs of gloves.”

Steve snorted, waving Bucky off. “I’m hungry!”

“Okay, okay!”

Steve sighed, looking back down at the pictures. He slipped them all into their proper places, doing his best to keep them in chronological order. He stopped at a group picture of him with Bucky and the rest of the gang. Clint, Tony, Thor… His heart squeezed. He hadn’t seen them since they all found out about his choice to stay with Bucky. Thor was slowly coming around but not Tony and Clint. Not even really Nat despite dating Peter. She tolerated Bucky, but the animosity and lack of trust was written on her face.

Steve needed to fix this. He just– didn’t know how. Bucky was doing well. He was seeing Sam and even volunteering at the VA. He was walking Jack and being as open as possible with Brock and Steve alike. He was doing everything as best as he could and he hadn’t even jumped when Steve accidentally knocked the garbage can down yesterday night. It’d made a large _bang_ but Bucky just laughed. That in itself was progress, right?

**SR [3:32pm]: Peggy, you doing anything this weekend?**

He set the phone back down, going back to his task of putting the pictures together. A few seconds later he hear the phone chirp.

**PC [3:33pm]: No, just going to see a movie with Angie. Why? Want to do something?**

**SR [3:33pm]: Yes. Maybe a little gathering? Pizza and game night like we used to have? Clint and Tony too? Thor?**

Steve listened as he heard both Bucky and Brock erupt into laughter in the kitchen, followed by a string of curses as something crashed. Then more laughing. He rolled his eyes.

**PC [3:35pm]: You want to ambush them AND Bucky? Do you think that’s wise?**

**SR [3:35pm]: I’ll tell Bucky. But…maybe yeah ambush them. They just gotta SEE him. I miss my friends.**

Bucky came back into the room, holding two bowls of potato soup. He set one for Steve on the nightstand and then sat at the edge of the bed with his legs crossed beneath him as he slurped away on his. “I love Brock’s potato soup. No damn lie.”

Steve smiled warmly, watching as Bucky’s lips wrapped around the spoon in the most tantalizing of ways. Did Bucky have any idea how gorgeous his lips were? Any idea how badly it made Steve’s spine tingle and his cock hum in his sweatpants? Steve cleared his throat, jumping slightly when his phone chimed again.

“Who ya talkin’ to?” Bucky asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Peggy,” Steve answered honestly. “Would you wanna go back to pizza and game night at her place? I miss it.” He couldn’t hide how broken he sounded. His fingers curled around his own spoon but suddenly he had no appetite. He missed his friends. He missed Tony’s taunting of Peter and Clint’s absolute disregard for self-presentation. He missed their laughter and how Tony and Steve disagreed on everything politics but they would still jump in front of bullets for each other. Well, they would’ve. Before Bucky.

Bucky put his soup down, moving up the bed to wrap an arm around Steve. Steve dropped his head into Bucky’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” Steve admonished. “I just miss them. I hate feeling…”

“Cast aside,” Bucky finished for him.

“Yeah.”

Bucky turned to place a soft kiss on Steve’s head. “I’m fine with it, doll. You wanna go, then we’ll go.”

“I can’t guarantee it won’t be awkward, or even kind,” Steve warned, feeling his heart fill with pebbles, weighed down and ready to snap. Bucky was the best thing that ever happened to him. Of course, things weren’t perfect. Bucky _wasn’t_ perfect. That was something Steve had to learn, and it took him a long time to figure it out. Bucky wasn’t perfect, but neither was Steve. They both were wounded and had become each other’s bandages. They were imperfect people trying to help each other feel as perfect as possible and that’s all they could ask for. Steve wanted his friends to see how far Bucky had come. He wanted to have his family back. Even his ma.

“Honestly, babe. I’ve been in a war. I can handle sneers and men who think they’re better than me. I’ve dealt with it all my life.”

Steve nodded, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. He ran his tongue along it, just staring at their toes by the photos displayed atop the bed. “Thank you for being so amazing.”

“Thank you for being so patient,” Bucky responded, pressing another kiss to Steve’s head.

**PC [4:01pm]: Friday. 8’oclock. Tony, Thor and Clint will be there.**

* * *

 

Bucky wouldn’t lie to himself. He was nervous. He wanted _so badly_ to see Steve reunited with his friends. Bucky liked to think himself an entertaining guy but he couldn’t keep Steve cooped up with just him and Brock. Sure, Steve went out and saw Peggy and Peter but it wasn’t the same as when Steve had an entire group of friends he constantly saw. There was a haze over Steve’s eyes now, a slump in his already hunched over shoulders and he whimpered a bit too much for Bucky’s comfort at night no matter how close Bucky held him.

He stared at himself in the mirror, slowly zipping up his black jeans. He usually didn’t care that he looked like a 1950s street urchin but tonight was different. He’d see all of Steve’s friends– friends who still were wary with him and he needed to make a better impression. Sighing, Bucky slipped off his black jeans and moved to the dresser to find blue ones. He apparently didn’t own a single pair of jeans without a hole around the knee and gave up when he found one with the smallest hole. He settled for a blue plaid button down and a white undershirt in case he got too hot for some reason.

He looked back in the mirror, snaking his fingers through his hair. It reached the nape of his neck, a constant tangled mess of brown atop his head. “Hey Steve!” he called, angling himself a bit toward the bathroom across the hall.

The blond came out, sporting a blue cardigan and red undershirt. His hair was gelled to the side and Bucky wanted to moan at how pretty he looked.

“We’re both very blue,” Steve stated, smirking. “That’s okay. We can be that couple.”

“Do you like my hair?” Bucky asked, looking back in the mirror.

Steve came up behind him, ruffling up the locks playfully. “Of course! Why?”

“I dunno. I just. Maybe others might think I look like a jobless hobo. Since ya’know, I _am_ a jobless hobo.”

Steve chortled before going over to the dresser and grabbing a hair tie from the sock drawer. He came back over to Bucky, stealing Bucky’s comb from his hand and gently brushing the locks back.

Bucky shivered, his eyelids fluttering. He felt so calm. His baby was combing out his hair and streaking his fingers through it. He was pressed up against Bucky’s back and wavering slightly on his tip toes. Bucky shivered again, his shoulders jerking lightly. “Please play with my hair forever.”

Steve huffed a laugh through his nose. “Watch out. I may braid it.”

“I don’t care, just don’t stop touching.”

Steve paused, looking at Bucky in the mirror. “You really like this?”

“Feels real good. Didn’t think it could.”

Steve smiled, slowly letting his fingers run through Bucky’s hair. “Well, I like playing with your hair, so I guess this is a win-win.”

Bucky returned the smile, hazy and content as Steve went back to combing. He let his eyes slide closed when Steve started gathering up his hair at the base of his skull. He felt the band wrap around the strands and then opened his eyes when Steve stepped back.

A few strands were still tickling over his jaw but other than that, Bucky was now sporting a bun, low and messy against his head. “I like it.”

“Good,” Steve announced easily, shrugging. “Cause I do too. You ready?”

Bucky’s heart froze over. He grabbed at it, wincing a little.

“We don’t have to go,” Steve began.

“No!” Bucky interrupted. “I want to. I’m just– nervous.”

Steve nodded, his lips pressing tightly together. He wrapped his delicate arms around Bucky’s waist, pressing his face between Bucky’s shoulder blades.

“You’re the bravest man I’ve ever known next to Peter,” Steve said. “And if they don’t love you, well then that means they don’t love me. And I don’t need friends like that.”

Bucky grimaced, looking at himself again in the mirror. “I don’t wanna be the reason you lose your friends.” He turned around in Steve’s arms, wrapping his around Steve’s neck and pressed a kiss between his eyebrows. “I don’t wanna ruin your life.”

“You have _not_ , nor will you ever, ruin my life. I swear Bucky. I hated myself. I hated myself so much before you. I was inferior, too short, too skinny, too inadequate, too sick– too whatever. I felt worthless. Then you came into my life. It’s not easy. Sometimes the first thing I wanna do is blame shit on me being inadequate but– that’s not true. I’m not inadequate. I’m just short and skinny. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Bucky smiled.

“There’s nothing wrong with me, Buck. There’s nothing wrong with you either. You can’t ruin my life. You fixed it.”

Bucky lifted Steve up, wrapping the slender man’s legs around his waist. He was swimming in euphoria at those words. Steve always struggled with self-worth and now he was openly admitting to Bucky that he was _not_ broken. Well, that about sealed Bucky’s love for this man. Forever.

Steve giggled, dropping his face against Bucky’s shoulder.

“You’re lucky we gotta go impress your friends or I’d be pullin’ your clothes off so slow right now. Makin’ sure to kiss every inch of your body.”

Steve turned several shades of red, looking at Bucky with a sheepish grin. “We’re gonna be late. Peggy hates it when we’re late.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky grumbled, but not before dropping Steve onto the bed and kissing all over his face.

* * *

 

Bucky stuck extra close to Steve as they walked up the stairs to Peggy’s apartment. He shied back, letting Steve enter the room to the echoes of delight as his friends greeted him. Bucky closed his eyes, taking in a deep gulp and then crossed the threshold. He kept his eyes closed as the room got momentarily quiet before Peggy began a conversation to the group about what pizza to order.

Bucky opened his eyes slowly. He looked to Tony, seeing the man with a rigid back and a red face. Clint was glaring and Nat slunk from Peter on the sofa to the corner where Clint and Tony were playing cards. Thor was on the floor with Angie playing a game on a tablet but he didn’t even bother looking up.

Okay, Bucky may have lied when he said he could handle this. Jack whined next to him, alerting him that he could feel Bucky’s distress. Bucky kneeled down to the dog, scrubbing his fingers against the dog’s scalp. He flapped his tongue out happily.

“Hey Buck!” Peter greeted, a lopsided grin on his face.

“Nice to see you and Jack,” Peggy added as she came up to give Bucky a one-armed hug. She had a platter of cucumber sandwiches in her other hand.

“Hey Pete.” Bucky dipped his chin, feeling everyone’s glares subtle from the corner of the room. “Want any help?”

Peggy looked to Angie and then back to Bucky. “Sure. Follow me into the kitchen?”

Bucky watched Steve make his way over to Peter, squealing in delight as the man pulled Steve into him before attacking his stomach with relentless tickling. Bucky smiled. Peter was a literal angel.

He felt a bit better in the kitchen, hiding in the corner between the oven and the dishwasher. Peggy went over to the refrigerator to pull out a cheeseball.

“Would you open that box of crackers and put it out on that dish?” Peggy instructed, pointing to the various objects.

“Sure thing,” Bucky chimed.

“So,” Peggy began. “How are you?”

Bucky looked down to Jack who’d sat patiently by his side, always looking up at Bucky– doing his job. “Uh, I’m good.”

“No, I mean right now. In this flat.”

“Oh,” Bucky responded unintelligently. “Um. It’s– I’ll be fine. I’ve got friends here.”

“Sam’ll be here after 9. He’s picking up the pizza. You can eat pizza, right?”

Bucky laughed, rolling his eyes. “As long as the dough isn’t made with egg then yeah.”

“Does Angelo’s use egg in their dough?” Peggy inquired, looking over to him with her big brown eyes as she put stuffed jalapeno peppers into the oven.

“Nah,” Bucky responded. “We’re good.”

“Did Steve tell you about this? Or did he ambush you?”

“He told me,” Bucky laughed. “Don’t worry. I agreed. I can take it. It’s– it’s important he sees them.”

“It’s important they see you too,” Peggy quipped, leaning against the counter. “They need to remember you aren’t just a single event but an entire human being. Peter’s forgiven you and honestly, that’s the only one who should matter.”

“Yeah, but it’d suck if you didn’t forgive me. I don’t wanna annex Steve from his friends.”

“You won’t,” Peggy promised, sounding so sure. “Clint’s only angry because Tony’s still angry and Tony’s only angry because he really _cares_ about Steve. I’m sure you’ve picked up that Steve’s the little brother of our group.”

Bucky flicked his brow up quickly, huffing out a laugh. “Oh yeah. But he’s stronger than that. He doesn’t need everyone tryin’ to protect ‘im. He’s not made of glass.”

Peggy stared at Bucky, a bemused look of wonder filtering into her eyes. “You’re an amazing creature, Bucky.”

“Wha- why?”

“Because what others see as weak, you see strong. That’s kindness.”

“I’ve seen men half the size of me kill plenty of terrorists. Size doesn’t matter.”

“You two havin’ a secret love affair?” Angie called into the kitchen as she came in to snake her arms around Peggy’s waist. Her pink lips pressed against Peggy’s cheek, leaving behind a faint mark that she reached up to carefully wipe away.

“Oh, darling don’t smear it,” Peggy laughed. A beautiful blush rose to her cheeks, one that Bucky couldn’t help but smile at.

“I like this,” Bucky announced.

“Hush you,” Peggy warned, pointing a stern finger at him. “Now you go back out there and prove to them you’re better than what they think.”

Bucky nodded, feeling something tug at his stomach. He clicked his tongue for Jack to heel with him and then meandered back into the living room.

The room was warm but all the windows were open so a nice breeze could float by. There was no sitting space unless he wanted to sit atop Steve, and part of him kind of wanted to. Steve _wasn’t_ a weak little thing. If Bucky could shove all his weight against Steve when they made love, then Steve could sure as hell take his weight right now.

Steve was right in the middle of speaking to Peter when Bucky came to sit across Steve’s lap, wrapping an arm behind Steve’s neck and leaning back against the armrest of the sofa. He kissed Steve’s cheek.

“Hey fatty,” Steve teased, adjusting a bit beneath Bucky.

“This okay?” Bucky asked, desperately hoping it was. He could hear the silence that came over the room as he walked back in.

“Absolutely,” Steve responded.

“You sure?” Tony asked. “He’s big, Steve. Don’t want you getting bruised.”

Steve glared at Tony and if the room was a little quiet before, it was dead-silent now. Thor readjusted himself on the floor, sitting back against the TV stand.

“He’s not that easily breakable Tony,” Bucky defended, furrowing his brow.

“No, unless you decide to slam your fist in his face,” Tony shot back.

“Hey!” Peter snapped, his voice tight with authority. “Not here.”

Tony huffed, slumping a little in his seat. “Have you been beatin’ on anyone recently, Buckster? Or do you just got a little soft spot for men who love Steve?”

“Tony!” Peter snapped again. “One more time and my fist is gonna be hittin’ your face, pal.”

Tony clicked his tongue, looking back down at his cards. “Deal me in.”

Natasha obliged.

Bucky bit his lip, looking down at his knees that were pressed against Steve’s chest as he sat there, all bunched up and cradled in his love’s arms. “Maybe this isn’t–”

“Shush,” Peter interjected. “This is fine. We’ll play our own games. Thor, wanna play Bullshit with us?”

Thor heaved a deep sigh but finally shrugged and said, “Sure, why not.”

They all slunk to the floor into a circle. Peter shuffled up the cards, laughing when Steve kept shoving his fingers in the way to mess him up.

Bucky felt the stares boring into the back of his head as he faced away from Clint, Tony and Natasha but he wasn’t going to turn around. He was going to sit here and have fun and maybe work on trying to win Thor back over– respectfully of course. At least the guy agreed to play cards with him.

“So, Thor, how’ve you been?” Bucky ventured, inwardly cursing that his voice didn’t sound nearly as strong as he wanted it to.

“Good,” Thor responded. “Jane’s coming back for summer break and we’ll be taking a trip to the Grand Canyon.”

“Oh wow,” Bucky responded. “That’s awesome!”

Thor shrugged. “Eh. We’re going so she can collect rock samples. She’s got a thesis to work on.”

“Well, regardless of _why_ you’re there, you’re still there with her. That’s all that should matter, right?”

Thor looked up from his cards, sporting a sideways grin at Bucky. “Yeah. Yeah you’re right. How’ve you been?”

Bucky’s heart swelled. He wasn’t sure if he could necessarily call Thor an ally, but he was polite _and_ offering up conversation. “Good. I’ve been workin’ on gettin’ better. Volunteering at the VA when Steve’s in class.”

“Okay, I have officially shuffled out these cards. No thanks to this shithead,” Peter joked as he bumped shoulders with Steve.

“Hey, you’re just a lousy dealer. S’not my fault,” Steve retorted.

“Behave children,” Peggy said as she and Angie came back into the room. “Do you have room for two more?”

“Sure do,” Peter sang as he went around the circle distributing cards. “The name of the game is Bullshit. We start at aces and go up to kings, play as many cards as ya like, you can even lie but if someone calls you out on your bullshit and you lied, you take the cards!”

“Sounds exciting,” Bucky commented.

“Whoever has aces goes first,” Peter explained.

Thor put down what Bucky assumed was an ace. It was face down. “One ace.”

“Two twos,” Steve lilted, shimming on his ass and nudging into Bucky.

Peter eyed Steve warily. “I know you.”

Steve waggled his brows. “Do you?”

“You’re already calling him out?” Angie asked, a wide smile on her face.

“Thinkin’ about it,” Peter detailed. “Steve’s too good at this game.”

“Steve’s a filthy liar,” Thor indulged. “Call him out, call him out!”

“Peter,” Steve drawled out. “You know me. I’m always honest.”

“Fuck it, bullshit!” Peter announced, reaching for the cards and revealing, in fact, two two’s. “Shit!” He took the three cards into his hand. “You rotten kid.”

“I was honest!” Steve laughed, pushing his face into Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky chuckled, wrapping an arm around his lover. He kissed the top of Steve’s head, taking a deep breath to smell their shampoo.

They went around the circle a few more times, but this time Steve put down some cards a little too fast. No one seemed to think anything of it and Bucky wasn’t even sure if he should either but something was tugging at his gut.

“Bullshit,” Bucky announced.

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Seriously? Why is everyone targeting me!”

“C’mon!” Peter growled out happily. “Rules are rules, little man! Show ‘em!”

Bucky smiled, listening to Peter’s elations and watching Steve’s smile. Steve only smiled like that for Peter. Once upon a time, it made Bucky angry. The friendly banter between Peter and Steve caused Bucky to… Well, “trigger.” The relationship Steve had with Peter was one that Bucky would never have with Steve, but that didn’t matter. A best friend was a best friend. A lover was a lover.

“Show ‘em,” Bucky agreed, smiling proudly at Peter.

Peter nodded, a curt nod that spoke of a silent conversation. Peter remembered why Bucky attacked him just as well as Bucky remembered the reason. It would never cease to amaze Bucky how well Peter could read him.

Steve whined, turning over the cards to reveal his lying hand.

Everyone shouted out in laughter as Steve pulled the large pile into his hand.

“I hate you all,” Steve sulked.

“Ah, don’t be like that little guy!” Peter chuckled. “We love you.”

“Sure do,” Peggy agreed, pressing a red-lipped kiss to Steve’s cheek.

“Alright, alright!” Sam shouted from the door as he came in with four boxes of pizza. “Let’s get this party started!”

The groups disbanded from their game to wolf down some pizza.

While munching some pizza, Bucky noticed how the group was split with Tony, Clint and Natasha over at the poker table. They didn’t laugh. They didn’t toss jokes back to the group on the floor had done. He accepted it. He didn’t like it– but he accepted it. They’d either come around or they wouldn’t. Bucky messed up once. He’d ignored all his warning signs and almost killed Peter. They’d either come around or they wouldn’t and that was that.

After pizza, a few more rounds of Bullshit (where Bucky learned Steve loved lying) and some beers, everyone was getting restless. Angie was busy trying to blow raspberries against Peggy’s face, Thor was obsessively texting Jane and Steve managed to braid countless, tiny, little braids into the left side of Bucky’s head. They fell into his eyes awkwardly but he didn’t have the heart to take them out after Steve finally decided his lithe fingers had enough.

“Bar?” Natasha suggested.

“That’d be nice,” Angie said, looking to Peggy for approval.

“Sounds good with me,” Peggy agreed.

Everyone got up and made their way out the apartment and down the stairwell. The bars were in walkable distance. Bucky brought up the rear with Jack, watching Clint and Tony laughing wildly about something. It was almost like they were trying to pretend they were having more fun than Bucky ever could.

“Hey,” Thor said, coming to stand next to Bucky. “I want to apologize–”

“Oh,” Bucky interrupted. “You don’t hafta. I messed up. I own that.”

“Well sure, but it’s what you’re doing now that really speaks volumes,” Thor continued. “You’re letting them treat you like shit and you don’t yell back. It’s noble.”

“I deserve it.”

Thor grimaced, tugging on his hoodie over his forehead. “I disagree. You deserved it before. But you’ve earned my respect by taking this all in stride and with grace.”

Bucky smirked, looking up at Thor with squinted and bashful eyes. “Thanks, Thor. That means a lot.”

Thor beamed, shrugging. “I also am fond of your dog.”

“Ha! The truth comes out!” Bucky joked, tossing his head back. “You can pet him when we get to the bar. I know he’s workin’ but honestly, I don’t mind. ‘Long as we’re all sittin’, go for it.”

Thor nodded, smiling gently. “I’ll buy him dinner to compensate his time distracted.”

Bucky snorted. “He’s a fan of a good ribeye.”

“I’m not surprised.”

They fell into comfortable silence as the bar came into view. Steve was up in the front, chattering enthusiastically with Sam, Peter and Natasha. Bucky couldn’t help but smile like an idiot, watching his lover’s eyes light up with excitement each time he could respond. He was so animated. His arms were flailing with him as he talked, his red lips were in a constant smile and he kept flicking his bangs out of his face. Stunning. Absolutely stunning. Bucky shivered, licking at his lips. That man– he got to take him home every night. He was the lucky bastard that got to hold Steve and kiss his tears or wipe away his runny noses. He was the one who got to hold him so close their heart beats synched. Bucky would never be certain how the _fuck_ he got so lucky.

The noisy bar was crowded with loud clumps of people, all dotted along and of course clogging up the walkways. It made Bucky a little nervous. He clung to Steve’s arm once they got inside. Sam seemed to notice too because he took Bucky’s other side, forcing people to give them a wide berth Jack was pushing his way through people, his little harness alerting people who almost said something about him. Bucky was pretty pleased at how stubborn Jack was. He was on duty and Bucky was his mission.

“Do you wanna go outside?” Steve asked over the loud music.

“Is it okay with everyone else?” Bucky asked, matching Steve’s loud tone.

Steve turned to Peggy, leaning into her ear. She looked over at Bucky and then nodded before turning to Angie to probably inform her.

The group of course split again. Tony and Clint decided they’d rather hang by the bar. Bucky didn’t care. He knew _why_ they were avoiding the rest of the group but he wouldn’t let it show. He followed Steve outside to the little patio out back. It was dotted with high tables and stools, loudspeakers in the corners against the paneling of the building and there was a corn hole set up.

“Hey, who wants to play?” Peter asked as he grabbed some of the bean bags. “We can get drinks then play?”

“I’d like to,” Thor said, licking his lips. “Bucky, want a beer? My treat.”

Bucky smiled, shaking his head. “It’s okay. I can–”

“Bucky,” Thor said more resolutely. “Would you like a beer? _My treat._ ”

Bucky just snorted. “Rolling Rock.”

Thor gave a lazy salute and then headed over to Sam and Steve to take their orders. He and Peter then went back into the crowds to get the drinks.

Bucky made his way over to a table in the corner with Peggy, Nat and Angie. He gave Jack a little pet on the head, cooing softly at him.

“He’s doing well,” Angie said. “So proud of that little guy!”

Bucky smiled, his eyes swimming with praise for his dog. “He’s perfect. Thanks for all your help with him, Ang.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “I like my job. No worries. I’m just glad I get to see you two together. That’s pretty unique for me.”

“Jack’s part of the family,” Steve added, walking up and bumping Bucky playfully on the shoulder. “It’d be weird without ‘im around.”

Angie’s smile broadened. Bucky liked how much she smiled. She was a genuinely good person. He was glad Peggy found someone so wholesome.

“Hope you get used to havin’ dog hair all over your clothes,” Sam teased as he came over to pick a dog hair off Bucky.

“Ha. Thanks,” Bucky stated with a smile.

Thor and Peter came back with the beers, all smiles and laughs about something they’d just encountered. Steve tried to take his wallet out to pay Thor back but Thor gently wrapped his larger fingers over Steve’s and closed his fist around it.

Steve rolled his eyes but he didn’t push the issue anymore.

“So who’s up to get their ass kicked at corn hole?!” Peter exclaimed as he pumped his fists into the air.

“How about me and Bucky versus you two,” Thor suggested, looking from Peter to Steve. “We can trade teams after? Winner stays or all new?”

“I’m good with being ref,” Sam indulged. “I know Peter’s a little trickster.”

“The infamous Double Trouble!” Peggy laughed, sipping from her hard cider. “Watch out, Bucky. Steve’s disgustingly good at corn hole. Same with Peter.”

Bucky’s brows raised as he grinned in amusement. “Oh yeah? You never told me this, Stevie.”

Steve blushed, deep and flawless against those high cheekbones. He shuffled on his feet, scratching at his nose. “I uh– Peter n’ I usta play all the time.”

“It doesn’t require running or heavy lifting. Thought it was a good game for us to play as kids,” Peter detailed.

Bucky nodded. He understood that Steve wasn’t the strongest or fastest. He wasn’t the most gifted in hand-eye coordination and sometimes he ran into doors when he was tired. Corn hole made perfect sense for him. It was kind of like bowling, only instead of throwing a heavy ball down a lane, Steve just had to underhand a beanbag into a hole about twenty yards away from where he stood.

“So in other words, loser gets next round?” Bucky suggested, tossing one of the bean bags up and down in his hand. Thor laughed, hearty and loud.

“We’ll just make fun of all ya bad forms!” Angie teased from the sidelines, wrapping her arm around Peggy.

They flipped a coin to see who went first and Steve won. He walked over to the far side of the patio and lined up to toss the bean bag.

“Awe, you’re so cute when you furrow your brow!” Bucky called out, giggling.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Stop cheatin’!”

“What? A guy can’t tell his boyfriend he’s gorgeous? You’re gorgeous, Stevie!”

“Ref!” Steve went several shades red. He scrunched up his lips, desperately trying to avoid Bucky from how serious he looked.

“I’ll let it slide,” Sam commented, his face smug and his arms crossed.

“Oh baby!” Bucky teased. “The things you do to me with those lips!”

“Bucky!” Steve snapped, his face the shade of a tomato.

Everyone was laughing. Peggy covering her mouth with red painted nails and Angie giggling into Peggy’s shoulder. Thor was scratching at his stomach, chuckling softly.

Peter was cackling, playfully punching Steve on the shoulder. “Don’t let the enemy win, Steve! Don’t give in!”

Bucky wore a proud smile, beaming over at his lover.

Steve stepped up to the toss, and let the bean bag go.

Bucky watched it, his smile fading as the bag dunked into the hole. “What!”

“Told you,” Peter announced. “He’s good at this game.”

“Score! One for the Double Troubles!” Sam announced in his best announcer voice.

Steve flicked his brows in a challenging demeanor, smirking.

“Oh so it’s gonna be like that?” Bucky called.

“Hey Bucky,” Steve began. “Wanna place a bet?”

Bucky licked his lips. He loved when Steve got cocky. Steve walked from his center, like a lot of women– instead of his shoulders like most men. When he got this way, he was all swaying hips and Bucky savored each little moment his cardigan slipped up to expose creamy skin.

“Loser rubs winner’s feet for a week.”

Bucky would rub Steve’s feet for eternity if Steve asked it. He was nodding his head frantically, his mouth agape and his eyes lusting. He’d do anything Steve wanted. Shove knives down his throat? Balance on a tiger? Run five thousand miles? Anything. Everything.

“Deal, doll,” Bucky affirmed.

“So, Thor’s gonna rub my feet too, right?” Peter teased.

“You wish!” Thor laughed.

Steve got another turn because he’d sunk the other one. He hit the board but no hole this time. Then it was Bucky’s turn.

Bucky felt the weight of the bean bag in his hand. He looked over at Jack; the dog was lying down on the patio just watching the game. He licked his lips and then stepped up to the toss, letting the bag go and wincing as it left his fingers too early.

It didn’t even hit the board.

“Oh! No dice!” Peter shouted, snatching his beer up.

“It’s okay, Bucky,” Steve said. “Not everyone can be good with their hands.”

“Oh-ho-ho!” Peggy exclaimed, her brows high on her forehead.

“I believe you’re gonna need to go to the hospital for that _burn!_ ” Angie followed up.

Thor was in stitches, fist bumping Angie.

Sam snorted.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I’m just warmin’ up, baby! I got no complaints last night when you were screamin’ my name!”

“Countered!” Peter cried out, cupping his hand around his lips.

Steve was smirking, shaking his head softly. He looked so happy, surrounded by friends and out on a spring night just doing what college kids did.

“Hey!” Natasha shouted from the door to the bar.

Bucky hadn’t even realized she’d left them to go back inside. Her face was pale and she looked a little shaken up.

“What’s wrong, Nat?” Peter asked, instantly moving to her.

“Tony n’ Clint’re in a fight. They’re getting their asses beat,” she explained.

Everyone ran inside. Jack barked, bringing up the rear.

Bucky saw Clint splayed out on the floor, his nose was busted up and some guy was beating down on him. Tony wasn’t doing much better. His lip was bleeding and he was spitting vivid red against the dirty bar floor. He ran at one of his attackers, fist raised high only to receive a jab to the stomach.

Bucky didn’t think twice. He ran in, yanking the guy from Clint and shoving him aside before side swiping and stretching out his ankle to trip up the guy going for Tony. Once the guy was on the ground, Thor ran out and held him down, giving him the most intimidating look Bucky had ever seen on Thor’s face.

Steve was wide-eyed and terrified. Bucky knew that look. He was waiting for Bucky to trigger. For Bucky to lose himself and hurt someone.

Not this time. Bucky was grounded. He was _here_. This was a bar and he was safe. He had Steve and friends. He had Jack. He was safe. Steve’s friends weren’t safe and that was his only objective. He wasn’t asking for a reward or even any form of friendship from Tony and Clint. They were Steve’s friends and they were getting hurt. Bucky could stop it. It was as simple as that.

Jack ran into the circle, barking and snarling as another guy almost came up and hit Bucky but he backed down seeing the dog.

Bucky helped Clint stand up, getting the man’s blood smeared all over his button down. “You okay, man?”

Clint groaned, tilting his nose back.

Peter was at their side a second later, offering out napkins and a wet paper towel. They worked together to clean Clint off. Peggy and Angie had Tony, doing the same.

Bucky looked over his shoulder to see Sam with an arm up, protectively barring Steve from getting closer. Bucky appreciated that. The last thing he wanted was to find Steve had found his way into the fight with a busted up lip too.

“Hey fellas,” the bartender said as he came up to them. “I’m gonna hafta ask ya ta leave.”

“They attacked me!” Clint barked.

“That’s fine, Hank. We’ll leave,” Peter agreed, flashing Clint a glare.

Clint settled his feathers as he slumped into the barstool. “Just lemme clean up a bit, alright?”

“Five minutes,” Hank responded.

They escorted Clint and Tony out, the friendly game of corn hole abandoned and their beers unfinished. Bucky wasn’t bummed per say. But he was sad he wouldn’t get to see Steve completely wipe the floor with him in a game.

They walked mostly in silence back to Peggy’s apartment. Clint kept grumbling about how ‘he could handle it himself.’ But Tony seemed to think the situation was escalating much quicker.

“They could’ve killed us!” he kept wailing.

Once back at the apartment, Tony went into the kitchen and Clint into the bathroom. Bucky hovered in the hallway, listening to the water as Peter and Steve continued to clean up Clint’s wounds.

“Jesus, Clint stop squirming!” Peter shouted from behind the closed door.

“You did good, man,” Sam said, clapping Bucky on the shoulder lightly. “Real proud of you.”

“I’m kind of surprised, really,” Bucky admitted.

“Why?”

“I stayed grounded. I saw the situation. Knew I was with Steve and those were his friends. I didn’t,” he paused, biting his lip. “I didn’t slip.”

“Cause you were grounded. That’s important,” Sam detailed with furrowed eyebrows. “As I said, you did good.”

Tony came out of the kitchen first. He held an ice pack to the side of his head and he had a few bandages on his face but other than that (and bloodied knuckles) he was right as rain.

Bucky walked into the living room, hovering close to Thor in case Tony had anything fancy to say at Bucky.

“What happened?” Peggy finally asked, her arms crossed. She looked positively livid. “We were about to enjoy a nice game of corn hole when Nat came and told us what was happening. We hadn’t even been there more than twenty minutes!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony deflated. “I know.”

“Then what happened, Tony?” Peggy wailed.

Nat leaned against the wall, looking at Tony with a blank expression. She looked over to Bucky and then back to Tony again. “They were pounding back whisky shots.”

“So you were getting _pissed_?” Peggy exclaimed. “How many did you have?”

“Three or four,” Tony replied, sounding like a child. “Look, s’not that big’a deal!”

“To hell with that!” Peggy interrupted. “You ruined our night.”

“Hey,” Bucky butted in. He didn’t know whether he’d come to hate himself for being unable to keep his mouth shut or not, but he had a knack for always opening his big mouth. “It’s okay. They were just tryin’ to have a good time.”

“A good time? By getting into a fight?” Peggy challenged.

“There’s a reason. Right, Tony?” Bucky lead.

Tony looked at Bucky, long and hard. His brow was thick and heavy against his eyes and he looked a lot older than his years. “You saved me from losing an eye.”

Bucky shrugged. “You were gettin’ hurt. Couldn’t have that.”

“Your dog nearly ate a man,” Tony continued.

“Jack’s pretty cool,” Bucky praised, petting the dog on the head.

“…Thanks,” Tony said stiffly. “Really.”

Bucky smiled. He hadn’t expected it but he couldn’t deny the warmth that bloomed in his heart. Tony wasn’t signing up to be Bucky’s best friend, but this was a good step.

“Sorry I ruined your night,” Tony mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bucky soothed. “I was more in the mood for a movie on the sofa anyway.”

Tony laughed before cringing in pain and grabbing his stomach. “Oh-hoh! Damn that hurts. We could watch Jurassic Park? I’m always in the mood to watch lawyers get eaten by dinosaurs.”

“You may need a lawyer!” Peggy quipped.

“They attacked us!” Tony exclaimed. “Honest.”

“What for?” Angie asked.

Clint, Steve and Peter came out of the bathroom. Clint groaned, sitting next to Tony on the sofa. Steve went to Bucky, wrapping himself in Bucky’s arms.

“They saw Bucky and Steve walkin’ through the bar,” Tony admitted, sighing heavily. “They were making fun of them.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open. Steve’s too.

“They were talking shit about Steve and Bucky?” Peter gasped. “And you– did what? _Fought_ them?”

“We told them to shut up,” Clint explained. “That they were our friends. They looked at us and then started calling us faggots so– when we tried to walk away they yanked me and that was it.”

“You,” Steve began, his voice barely above a whisper. “You were sticking up for me? And Bucky?”

Tony shrugged, sniffing. “Yeah well, he’s your boyfriend. You’re one of my best friends. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“Tony,” Steve breathed out, his face warm and approving. His lips were in a full smile and his eyes misty. “Thank you.”

“Bucky’s– not that bad, I guess.” Tony winced, gasping a bit and moving the ice pack to his stomach.

Clint nodded. “Yeah. I mean, the way you came in like that for us. That was real nice of you.”

Bucky shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

“No, seriously dude. That had to have been hard for you. With your PTSD.”

Bucky wrinkled his nose. He didn’t like people coddling him or calling him out on it. He knew what he had and knew it was a long journey ahead of him. But he knew Clint meant well and everything Clint was saying was an olive branch. Bucky would be crazy not to take it.

“Thanks, Clint. That means a lot to me.”

Steve spun in Bucky’s arms, looking up at him with a toothy smile that radiated proud and hopeful. He lifted up onto his tip toes and pecked Bucky on the lips. “My hero,” he teased.

“Oh please,” Bucky snorted. “Your friends are idiots.”

“They’re your friends too,” Steve chimed.

Bucky looked over to Clint and Tony’s hopeful faces. He felt uneasy with all the eyes in the room trained on him. “If you want me to be.”

“Bucky,” Clint said, standing up. “I’m sorry. I was an overprotective ass. You’re turnin’ yourself around and that’s gotta earn some respect so. Yeah, if you wanna be friends. I’ll be your friend.”

“Same,” Tony added. “I’m not one to say sorry though so you’ll have to just get over that.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Steve groaned. It was evident that Tony was still wary, but this was an armistice of sorts and Bucky would gladly take it. So he nodded, looking down to Steve and then back to the pair of roughed up men on the sofa.

“So,” he began. “How about we watch that movie?”

* * *

 

Bucky kissed Steve quickly on the lips, turning quickly to grab the lunch he’d made the blond. Steve blushed, rolling his eyes.

“Eat it!” Bucky ordered. “I made it with extra love.”

“You’re a sap,” Steve mumbled, taking the brown bag. “Thanks.”

“Be safe please,” Bucky requested, like he did every time Steve went off to his classes.

Steve rolled his eyes again before waving a lazy goodbye.

Bucky sighed heavily, turning around and looking into the quiet brownstone. Every time Steve left for classes, Bucky was always reminded of how _bored_ he was. He didn’t have a job, he barely had any hobbies and since the weather’s been warmer, Brock was often at construction sites for his job. Bucky was alone.

As if Jack sensed Bucky’s inner turmoil, the dog came over, licking at Bucky’s hand to remind him that he wasn’t alone.

“Aw, I know you’re here, buddy,” Bucky cooed, scratching the dog on the head. “Just you n’ me, huh? What trouble should we get into today?”

The dog wagged his tail, just staring at Bucky with round and black eyes.

Bucky nodded, smacking his lips. “Well, we could watch TV.” He rounded the couch, flopping down and began flicking through the channels. Cooking shows, talk shows, HGTV with their ‘do it yourself’ housing revamps. “Oh my God, this is terrible.”

He hauled himself up, grabbing Jack’s harness.

The dog barked excitedly before coming up to Bucky to let him put the harness on. Bucky quickly worked the Velcro and loops before the dog was ready with his red harness. _Don’t pet me, I’m working._ He smiled at his handiwork before standing up to snatch the leash.

“Let’s go for a walk, huh?”

They went out into the Spring air. Bucky sniffled a bit as his allergies decided to bother him but he wouldn’t turn around. It was just a little runny nose anyway. They went down a few blocks, looking at cafes and people in suits. Steve was away at school, Peggy was at work, Peter was at work. Everyone was _doing_ something. Bucky was still a jobless hobo who was shacking up at his best friend’s place. Brock was a nice guy, but that didn’t mean Bucky was allowed to abuse that friendship. He needed to get out eventually.

They found themselves in front of the VA. Bucky shuffled on his feet before marching up and deciding sneaking in to see what was going on. There was a group session going on in the main hall. Sam was of course there, speaking eloquently and softly– like he always did. Bucky lingered in the hall, watching with his arms crossed over his chest. The secretary didn’t bother him and Jack waited patiently at his side.

After the session was over, Sam finally noticed him. He beamed brightly, flashing his ungodly white teeth and jogged over.

“Hey Jack!” he greeted happily, ruffling the dog’s ears.

“He’s working!” Bucky joked.

“I’m an exception, right Jackie-poo?” he cooed to the dog. Jack was on his back, legs in the air and kicking happily as Sam scratched over his belly.

“I blame you if I spaz out and he’s in an affection daze.”

“I take full responsibility,” Sam obliged happily, straightening up. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’,” Bucky began, looking around at a group of vets as they passed by. “Steve’s at school. Brock’s on a job.”

“You’re bored,” Sam deduced.

Bucky laughed. “Is it that obvious?”

“Smart guy like you, hell yeah it’s easy to get bored,” Sam indulged as they walked toward the secretary. “When you starting school?”

“I was supposed to this semester until…”

Sam’s face scrunched up. Until Bucky’s breakdown in December. “Yeah. You gonna start in the fall then?”

“Yup. But not business. Not anymore.”

“I remember you mentioning you were thinking psych?”

Bucky smiled. “Figured I’ve got some stories I could relate to patients.”

Sam slid his fingers on the old marble reception area. A heavy wooden desk, immobile and built into the ground with marble slabs as the surface. The whole building was like that. Old and majestic– slightly rundown. It’s like the government didn’t really _care_ about vets. They just cared when they needed bodies to fuel wars.

“You could get some experience here,” Sam suggested. “Volunteer.”

“Seriously?” Bucky gasped. “You’d let me?”

Sam shrugged. “Why not? You’ve seen some shit. In and out of serving. Think you’d be great for people to listen to.”

Bucky nodded solemnly. “That’d be– that’d be great, Sam.”

Sam smiled, clapping Bucky on the back. “Good. You wanna start tomorrow?”

“I– yeah. Yeah that’d be great.”

“Sweet,” Sam responded, his eyes proud. “Want some lunch? Was just about to head out and get a salami wrap.”

“Sounds good,” Bucky agreed.

So it wasn’t a job but it was the start of one. It couldn’t hurt if Bucky was truly entertaining the idea of psych instead of business for his degree. Steve would be proud of him. As they walked down the street to the Italian deli, Bucky noticed he had just a tiny bit more pep in his step.

Things were starting to turn around for him. He had friends, he’d gained the respect of people who he almost called enemies and he was going to start _doing_ something with all his absurd free time. That was enough to bring a smile to his face.

* * *

 

Steve got home before Brock. He slumped into the house, tossing his favorite red cardigan over the couch and stumbling into his and Bucky’s room. He watched Bucky from the doorway, smiling softly. Bucky was napping on the bed with Jack. Jack’s little head was pushed up against Bucky’s hip and slightly beneath Bucky’s oversized Metallica shirt. They both looked like they’d had a busy day, but Steve wasn’t sure _what_ they’d done. Steve’d never been one to obsessively text Bucky while away at school. Some couples needed that, but Steve was fairly certain his relationship with Bucky wouldn’t rise or fall on how frequently they spoke. They lived together, cooked together, made love together. What more did they really need?

He tip toed into the room, his gaze flicking to Bucky with every step. The brownstone was old and the floorboards creaked softly under even his weight. He crawled into the bed before nestling his head on Bucky’s chest. Hearing Bucky’s heartbeat. Hearing that slow, steady _thum-ba-thum-ba-thum_. It could make him cry. They’d been through so much. The raw and open letters that brought them together. The turmoil of Steve’s original lies and the distant memory that Steve could have _lost_ Bucky had it not been for Bucky’s never-ending patience. Their struggle with Bucky’s egg allergy (Steve missed cake). The PTSD and the almost-destruction of everything they’d built because Bucky had been scared. They’d almost lost each other so many times that it was astonishing that they were together right now.

Bucky stirred, lifting his hand and smacking his face gracelessly. He groaned, moving his hand to curl possessively around Steve.

Steve smiled, looking up at Bucky through his bangs.

“When’ja get home?” Bucky slurred.

“Just now,” Steve answered. “You and Jack looked peaceful. I didn’t wanna wake you.”

Bucky smiled, inhaling deeply through his nose, stretching. “It’s okay. You hungry? Want me to make you dinner?”

Steve shook his head against Bucky’s chest. “Honestly, I’d rather just fall asleep right now.”

Bucky hummed. Steve could feel him stretch out his legs.

“Brock home?”

“Not yet.”

“Oh?”

Steve flashed a devious grin.

“Can we take a bath together?” Bucky asked, still sounding sleepy and fragile.

Steve loved when Bucky was half awake like this. His eyes were always lidded and his voice soft and mumbled but his _tone_ was what Steve almost whined for. It was soft, innocent and open. It wafted into Steve like the scent of warm apple pie and it blanketed Steve’s body with humming happiness.

“Love to, baby,” Steve agreed, pecking Bucky on the cheek. “I’ll start the water.”

He pulled himself up, heading across the short hall to the bathroom. Turning the water on, he sat down on the tub’s side, watching the stream as it warmed up. He kept his fingers beneath the water, waiting patiently for it to go warm.

Bucky was behind him, crouching and leaning against him, kissing the back of his neck.

Steve hummed appreciatively, feeling long fingers glide up and down his upper arms.

“Missed you,” Bucky mumbled, still groggy.

“I wasn’t even gone for six hours,” Steve giggled, turning to kiss Bucky.

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky deflected. “You drive me crazy, you know that? Every little detail. Your hair, your eyelashes, your bones and blood. You mean so much to me that I can’t think of anything but you when you’re not here.”

Steve snorted. “That’s called separation anxiety and we should work on that.”

“Steve!” Bucky exclaimed, mildly agitated. “M’serious. You’re everything to me.”

Steve’s first instinct was to clamp up, blush and look away. He blushed, but he didn’t let himself close off. He stayed open, his fingers under the warm water. Smiling, he leaned into Bucky, pressing a delicate kiss atop the tip of his nose.

Bucky smiled silently.

“Water’s warm.”

They undressed silently, Bucky hopping into the bath before Steve. It wasn’t a grand bathtub, just regular with barely enough room for one large man. Bucky let his knees lean against either side of the tub, watching Steve step in one foot at a time.

Steve cupped his hands over his cock and balls, earning a breathy giggle from Bucky.

“What?” he snapped with a smile.

“Your modesty. I’m spread eagle in a tub looking up at you like you’re the damn earth– and you decided to hide your dick from me.”

Steve kneeled between Bucky’s thighs, sloshing the water roughly at his jerky movements. He shivered from the cold at his spine and the warmth at his ass and legs.

“You want me to wag it in your face?”

Bucky’s smile coiled into something positively sinister.

“You’re a little shit,” Steve laughed, pinching one of Bucky’s nipples.

“Ow! Hey!” Bucky howled. He tried to pinch at Steve’s but Steve slapped his hands, worming away and sloshing out more water.

“Bucky!” Steve laughed out. “We’re gonna get in trouble!”

“You’re the one who declared war on me!” Bucky countered, pointing accusingly at Steve. “You look like an angel but boy you’re the mother fucking devil!”

“Damn straight,” Steve chimed, flicking some water up at Bucky’s face. He turned around, settling his back against Bucky’s chest and leaned into him. Bucky’s chest was scratchy from the hairs on his chest and a little cold where cooling water was but his skin on Steve’s instantly heated up.

“Oooh,” Steve purred. “This feels nice.”

“Want a massage?” Bucky offered.

“Seriously?”

“Steve,” Bucky began, sounding exasperated. “I literally worship the ground you walk on. Seriously.”

“Well, okay then.”

Bucky snorted but he brought up his fingers up to Steve’s shoulders and began to gently work his thumbs in circles, squeezing just enough to get Steve moaning and dropping his head.

“Oh _God_ , Bucky,” Steve breathed out. “Yes please.”

Bucky chuckled lightly. “You have a good day at school?”

Steve shivered as Bucky moved down his spine, his fingers circling the skin to relax the muscles. He could feel the muscles relaxing, melting like wax, sending him pressing a bit more against Bucky.

“Yeah.”

“Draw anything exciting?”

“Mmm, no,” Steve whispered, dropping his chin against his chest. “Naked people.”

“Oh? I like naked people,” Bucky indulged, kissing Steve’s shoulder.

Steve leaned into the kiss, wrapping his hand back behind Bucky’s head to scratch at the back of his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Bucky repeated, nuzzling his nose against Steve’s shoulder and trailing it along to the other one. “You and your flawless body.”

“You sap.”

Bucky pressed kiss after kiss against Steve’s back, the back of his head, the nape of his neck– everywhere he could.

Steve felt each kiss soothe away the stresses of the day. The long ride into the city, the annoying tourists and people bigger than him. The frantic jogging across the streets as traffic ignored stoplights. The yelling and shouting. It was all being washed away by Bucky’s kisses. He leaned back, craning his neck to catch Bucky’s lips.

Bucky purred into the kiss, wrapping an arm around Steve and pulling Steve back into him, his fingers idly drawing nonsensical designs into Steve’s chest.

“Skin’s so soft,” Bucky mumbled against Steve’s lips. “Wanna kiss it forever.”

Steve smiled, running his lips over Bucky’s. “So kiss it forever.”

Bucky whined, desperate and urgent. He kissed Steve more passionately now, his hips rocking into the water to slosh it around.

Steve turned back to face the faucet again, letting Bucky’s kisses trail along his shoulders again. He nibbled gently at the skin, letting his teeth tease playfully.

“Wanna wash you and get you in bed.”

Steve snorted, but he handed the body wash (made for sensitive skin) back to Bucky.

Bucky lathered up his hands before scrubbing gently at Steve’s back and down his arms. He pressed his nose into Steve’s hair, breathing loudly and occasionally whining almost breathlessly.

Steve rinsed off the soap, dunking himself under the water. He came back up, gasping and sloshing water all over.

“We’re the messiest bath-takers.”

“Yup,” Steve chirped.

“Give me the shampoo,” Bucky instructed. “Wanna massage your scalp.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Steve laughed, tossing the bottle over his shoulder.

Bucky lathered the shampoo into Steve’s hair, scrubbing his fingers in circles over Steve’s scalp.

Steve was purring as Bucky went, leaning in to each touch and tilting his head from side to side as he followed Bucky’s fingers.

“You’re like a cat,” Bucky giggled.

“Meow,” Steve indulged.

“Okay, kitten.” Bucky indulged. “Dunk.”

“Kitten?” Steve echoed, his eyes going round. “I like that.”

Bucky blushed, nibbling on his lower lip. “Well– I can… I–”

“Don’t have an aneurism over there,” Steve laughed. He took in a deep breath and then dunked under the water, scrubbing at his hair to get the shampoo out. Once the shampoo was out, he came back up, gasping and fumbling around for a towel at the side of the tub. He patted his eyes, kneeling at the other end of the bath now.

Bucky was watching, his face still a little pink from before.

Steve smiled, shrugging a shoulder. “You can call me whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“That’s not it,” Bucky said. “I’m just always amazed by you.”

“Oh whatever,” Steve snorted. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They got out of the bath, Steve toweling off until Bucky was too impatient and swung him over his back. Shrieking in laughter, Steve squirmed and pretended to try to get away. Bucky pulled him into the bedroom, plopping him down gently and pressing countless kisses all over Steve’s face.

Jack was barking, unsure of what Bucky was doing, obviously.

“We gonna do this in front of the dog again?” Steve laughed. He lifted his head off the pillows, kissing Bucky’s nose.

“Ah shit,” Bucky sighed, scratching at his head. “I always feel so weird about it.”

“Do you think he’d get angry out in the living room?” Steve asked, lifting up onto his elbows. He watched the dog as he panted heavily, oblivious they were speaking about him.

“I dunno,” Bucky shrugged, turning to kiss Steve once more.

Jack groaned.

“Oh that’s it,” Bucky grumbled. He stood up, naked as the day he was born and tugged Jack by the collar out into the hall. “Just for a bit, okay Jack? Daddy’s gotta make love to the best man on the earth.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but his cheeks and shoulders heated up and went red.

Bucky closed the door, turning back to Steve and snagging some lotion from the dresser.

“What’s that for?” Steve asked, a smile glinting against his sharp features.

“Gonna lather you up and make you softer than a feather.”

Steve sighed, relaxing into the sheets. His hair was wet and cold against his scalp but his body was positively vibrating with excitement. It called out to Bucky, the tiny hairs on his skin reaching out desperately and beckoning Bucky to him.

Bucky crawled back onto the bed with the lotion, squirting it out into his hands. He straddled Steve, letting his flaccid cock rest against Steve’s.

Steve hissed from the contact, squirming a little bit.

“Shh, kitten,” Bucky cooed. “Gonna take care of you.”

“I know,” Steve responded, his eyes going glassy.

He watched with bated breath as Bucky brought his fingers down over Steve’s abdomen and hips. Bucky worked the lotion into the skin, gliding his fingers effortlessly over Steve’s lithe body.

Steve watched Bucky’s fingers, his mouth silently open and the back of his throat going sticky. He wanted to scoop those fingers up into his own and tug Bucky over him, to blanket him from the world and create a cocoon where nothing existed but them.

Bucky squirted out more lotion onto Steve’s chest, working it into the sternum and out over his pectorals.

Steve shivered, gasping as Bucky’s fingers swirled over his pink nipples. He arched up into Bucky’s warm hands, moaning softly.

“You like this?” Bucky murmured, rolling his hips into Steve’s in one, long, _pronounced_ body roll.

Steve jerked up, gasping. His eyes snapped open as he pulled Bucky’s face to his, pulling the man down on him. “Do that again,” he growled.

Bucky smiled, smug with himself. He rolled back into Steve, over and over until they were both panting and hard. He grabbed the lotion again, still slowly undulating his hips into Steve’s.

Steve was whining, squirming under Bucky. “B-Bucky,” he whimpered. “Please…”

“Shh, kitten,” Bucky purred, bringing a finger up to his lips. “Gonna get you all soft and ready for kisses.”

“Oh God,” Steve breathed out, rolling his head. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Nah,” Bucky gruffed out. “But you might wish I was.”

Steve grit his teeth, his fingers curling into the sheets.

Bucky lathered the lotion into his arms and fingers, prying his fingers off the bed and massaging each one individually.

Steve hummed appreciatively, trying to thrust his hips up to get more friction on his straining cock.

Bucky clicked his tongue, lifting his hips up, letting himself hover atop Steve.

“Bucky!” Steve whined, positively infuriated. “Stop fuckin’ with me.”

“I’m not fuckin’ with you,” Bucky responded gently. “I’m makin’ love to you. Love is patient.”

Steve groaned but he let himself relax into the bed, letting Bucky finish up working the lotion into his arms.

Bucky shimmied down Steve’s body, letting his long hair curtain over his face as he pressed kisses from Steve’s sternum down to his navel where he swirled his tongue. He purred, letting his hair tickle at Steve’s tummy.

“B-Bucky!”

“You smell so good now. Like fresh cotton.”

Steve eyed the bottle of lotion. “It’s called fresh cotton…”

“Yup,” Bucky laughed before nipping at one of Steve’s hips.

Steve whimpered when Bucky completely ignored his dick, red and straining from his blushing body. He watched Bucky squirt out more lotion onto his legs and began massaging down the limbs, digging his fingers into the meat of Steve’s legs.

Steve squirmed, wiggling his toes and gently bringing up his knee to bump into Bucky’s chest.

Bucky looked at him with wide, accusing eyes.

“I’m impatient.”

Bucky grabbed Steve’s raised leg, cupping beneath the crook of the knee. He bent down, kissing the knee, over and over before darting out his tongue to trace the joint.

Steve sucked in a breath, watching.

“You’re so pretty,” Bucky mumbled, kissing down Steve’s shin now. “Wanna kiss you forever.”

“Kiss me where it matters,” Steve urged, lifting his hips up.

Bucky pressed a big hand against Steve’s flushed hips, pushing him down into the bed. “Shh. I’ll take care of you.”

“Why not now? What if Brock comes home?”

“It’s okay, Stevie. The door’s closed.”

Steve grumbled but just looked at the curtained window. His eyes fluttered shut when Bucky began to kiss at his ankle, pressing Steve’s foot to the man’s broad chest. Steve watched with hooded eyes as Bucky kissed each pad of Steve’s toes, nuzzling his nose against the arch of Steve’s feet.

“That tickles,” Steve giggled, trying to pull his leg away.

Bucky held on fast, his fingers curling around Steve’s ankle. He kissed up the protruding joint, following the delicate curve of Steve’s calf and then licked at the back of his knee before dropping the leg gently onto the bed.

Steve pushed the other foot into Bucky’s chest. “Do that to this one.”

“Whatever you say, kitten,” Bucky indulged. He kissed over the ankle and the top of Steve’s foot, massaging at the soul and squeezing the heel.

Steve had never felt so relaxed before, his muscles piles of Jell-O against his bones that vibrated like bells chiming. He let Bucky kiss and suck against his calf before ticking his tongue under the second knee. He giggled, jerking the leg away.

“Kiss me up here,” Steve requested, his voice higher than usual as he bit his lip.

Bucky growled, low and approving as he covered Steve’s frame with his own. He engulfed Steve, pressing hard against those ruby lips.

They rocked into each other, letting their cocks slip up against each other’s. Time didn’t exist. The dog outside the door didn’t exist. Brock’s impending arrival didn’t exist. They wrapped up into each other, legs coiling around the other and lips still sidling up against lips, wet and warm and _safe_.

Steve rocked up into Bucky, tightening his leg around Bucky’s body as Bucky squeezed harder against his shoulders. Their lips ebbed and flowed against each other, pressing awkwardly sometimes, covering chins and wetting each other’s faces with saliva.

Steve was trembling, circling his cock around Bucky’s, curling his toes and digging his heel into Bucky’s back.

Bucky was rocking back and forth atop him, purring into the kisses and letting his tongue slip in and out of Steve’s mouth like a lazy ocean wave, never lingering long enough for Steve to really feel it lap against his.

Steve intertwined his fingers into Bucky’s hair, kissing needy and eager. Heat coiled against his stomach as he continued to thrust his hips up into Bucky.

Bucky was sucking on Steve’s bottom lip, groaning into it. He slipped from Steve’s lips, biting down against his jaw and then further to nip at the blond’s neck. He rolled into Steve, slipping their cocks up against each other’s and swirling his hips a bit to let their tips caress against each other.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered against Steve’s neck. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty. You make me so damn happy. I’m so crazy about you, kitten.”

“Oh,” Steve gasped. “Fuck!”

“So crazy, baby,” Bucky continued as he lapped and kissed at the side of Steve’s neck, sucking bruises into the sensitive skin. “Make my skin all hot and my tongue feel like it’s gonna drop outta my mouth.”

Steve laughed, rolling his hips up. He wasn’t just vibrating anymore. His whole body was alive with heated thrumming, static sloshing from head to toe as he moved his body with Bucky’s. He reached out, caressing his hands over Bucky’s face, his neck, down his back and finally cupping at his ass and _squeezing_ as hard as his fingers would let him.

Bucky moaned, rutting his hips down hard against Steve, pushing their cocks together more. “Stevie, oh _God_ , Stevie you’re the best fuckin’ thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Steve closed his eyes, gasping and covering his lips with any piece of skin he could find, clamping his teeth down against Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky groaned out, tossing his head back. He pushed down on Steve, rolling into him like high tide, making Steve see vivid colors that he could swear up and down don’t exist on this planet.

“B-Bucky I’m gonna–”

“It’s okay, baby,” Bucky husked. “I want you to come.”

“B–”

“Shh,” Bucky interrupted, bringing his hips around again over Steve’s. “It’s okay, baby. I wanna hear you. Wanna see your body flush all over, so pink and perfect for me.”

Steve was gasping, his limbs trembling like they’d run a marathon and lifted more than he ever had. He arched his back, inhaling short little breaths as his orgasm built up within, weighing him down like rocks against his belly. He clasped his lips over Bucky’s crying into his lover’s mouth as his seed spilled out and down over him. He frantically rubbed up against Bucky, moaning into their sloppy and urgent kiss.

“Oh kitten, oh baby, my fuckin’ baby– you’re so beautiful,” Bucky praised, stroking his fingers along Steve’s jaw. He covered Steve’s mouth again, rocking his hips back and forth until he was keening into Steve’s mouth, hot seed spilling out and along Steve’s dick and hips, mixing with his own.

Steve whimpered into the kiss. The steady rhythm of Bucky’s thrusts, the urgency of his moans and how his body quaked over Steve’s like only Steve could give him this– it was more than empowering, more than intoxicating– it was the very reason for Steve’s being.

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky, pulling the man down against him. Their lips clashed awkwardly as weight shifted, bodies slipping against each other and nipples rubbing along skin. Steve whined, his hands moving down Bucky’s spine and over the line of his ass.

Bucky rolled them over, squirming beneath Steve until he was nestled up in the pillows like Steve had been before. He let his hands wander all over, through Steve’s hair, behind his neck, over his ears, down his spine, over the ass and up the chest. He pressed countless kiss after kiss up into Steve’s swollen lips, smacking sounds loud and wet echoing into the room.

“Bucky,” Steve whined, pushing down his cock against Bucky’s. It was flaccid but still red.

“Yeah, kitten?” Bucky breathed out, pressing more kisses along Steve’s jaw.

“Want you to– to eat me out.”

Bucky grinned, brushing his nose against Steve’s before sitting up and plopping Steve down on the bed, belly down. He got between Steve’s legs, running his fingers along Steve’s lower back, massaging at the muscles.

“Mm,” Steve hummed. “That’s nice.”

Bucky laughed breathily before shimmying down and spreading Steve’s cheeks open. He reached his tongue out, gingerly at first– just flicking it over the hole to get it shiny and wet.

Steve gasped, his muscles fluttering excitedly as he felt Bucky’s warm tongue, swirling and lapping at his hole. His cock was already pushing against the bed, throbbing and engorging as he rutted himself back on Bucky’s face, shivering from the rough texture of Bucky’s stubble.

Bucky’s tongue poked inside, flirting with Steve’s body just as Bucky always flirted with Steve through letters, through their first dates and every damn day of their lives. His energy was boundless, and it was no different when he was in bed with Steve or out in the streets. He plunged his tongue in again, swirling it roughly against the walls inside.

Steve bowed his back, digging his fists into the sheets as he gasped. He rocked back on Bucky’s face, looking over his shoulder with dazed eyes. Bucky was beautiful, pushing against Steve’s white ass, slightly pink from being pressed up into a bed for so long. Bucky’s eyes were closed, like he was eating the most delicious peach on the planet. Steve moaned, dropping his head, panting. Bucky’s tongue was delightful against his ass, warm, slick and only for him. It fluttered against his insides, pushing impossibly further inside him till Steve was mewling incoherently as it lapped enthusiastically.

Steve was shivering again, sweat cooling his body as he rocked back and forth on the bed, trying to get friction on his hard cock. He whined rhythmically, whispering the softest professions of love and Bucky’s name, over and over like it was a chant designed for his lips and his lips alone.

Bucky pulled back, making Steve turn his head lazily. “You still with me?”

Steve nodded in his hazed stupor. “Want more.”

“Anything,” Bucky promised before dipping back. He lapped rougher now. His chin pressing against Steve’s perineum, pushing down against it enough to make Steve howl out in ecstasy.

Steve was babbling softly under his breath. He didn’t know what he was saying or even why he was saying it. All he knew was the pleasure Bucky was giving his body, heating him up and opening his ass for the only man worth taking it. He spread his legs further, letting Bucky’s tongue push deeper into him, hooking along with each little pull that produced the faintest little _pop_.

“God, Bucky, Bucky…fuck…fuck!” Steve panted. He pulled away, flipping himself over and bringing a finger down along his chest, pinching one of his own nipples.

Bucky was a slave to it, his eyes greedily drinking up Steve’s rare display of security. His mouth hung open unintelligently as Steve’s fingers continued to travel lower until he was pumping slowly, _slowly_ at himself. Bucky’s lips twitched, a tiny mewl coming from the back of his throat.

“Make love to me,” Steve said, pitchy and needy. “Want you in me so bad.”

Bucky nodded, swallowing loudly as he reached over to the nightstand to grab the lube. “Like last time? No condom?”

“No condom,” Steve agreed. “Ever again.”

Bucky couldn’t hide the smile that spread across his face like a fireworks in the sky. He hooked his arms beneath Steve’s legs, pulling the blond closer to him. “You’re so perfect.”

“You are too,” Steve whispered, nipping at Bucky’s nose.

Bucky growled, animalistic and desperate. He pushed two fingers up into Steve’s hole, scissoring them slowly. “Love the way you feel inside.”

Steve laughed, breathy and subtly embarrassed.

“You’re like silk, all warm from the sun.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“I mean it!”

“I’m sure you d-do,” Steve gasped as Bucky’s fingers curled over his prostate. “Get in me, Bucky.”

Bucky pulled his fingers back, careful to coat the hole with a little more lubricant before squirting some into his hand to pump over himself. He lined up, pressing himself slowly into Steve.

It was moments like this were Steve thought heaven existed simultaneously with life. The soft stretch of his hole, the warmth blooming in his ass and the way his soul _screamed_ was nirvana. Feeling Bucky slowly fill him inch by inch was something Steve lived for. He wrapped his legs around Bucky’s body, pulling himself closer, letting Bucky slip further into him. His mouth dropped open in a silent moan.

Bucky ran his fingers up and down Steve’s chest, watching Steve closely, caught up in his own high from Steve’s body.

They never stopped being amazed by each other. They probably never would.

Bucky rocked into Steve, lazy and soft, pressing kisses into Steve’s lips with each bury of his cock inside Steve. He rolled atop Steve, back and forth, not urgent, not frantic and not intent on coming.

Steve knew it wasn’t about about that. Not anymore. It was about being _inseparable_. Their souls seeped into each other when they were like this, just casually thrusting like eternity was all they had.

Their lips found each other, just as lazy and secure as their bodies rocked connected. Tongues flirted and played with each other, lips tangled and folded over and hands curled into hair.

To Steve, this is the closest he’d ever get to God, bible be damned about its curses for homosexuality. This was what his body was designed for. Not the act, but _Bucky_. Billions of years, every genetic opportunity put in place and enacted successfully just so that one day he could randomly decide to sign up for a program to reach out to military because he was genetically incompatible with enlisting. Every generation had to be perfect, every piece of history, every meeting where lovers greeted each other for the first time, each path led closer and closer to the day Steve met Bucky.  

“I love you,” Steve whispered against Bucky’s cheek. “So much.”

Bucky hummed, rolling his hips up into Steve to press into his prostate. “I love you.”

Steve gasped, arching his back off the bed. He felt Bucky’s fingers glide down his sternum before coming back up to caress his face.

They pressed their foreheads together, just looking into each other’s eyes as their hips lolled up to meet each other as if never having the opportunity before.

Steve’s mouth was stubbornly dry as he fought to kiss at Bucky’s lips, trying to stave off the feeling that swirled in his stomach each time Bucky pressed his tip into Steve’s prostate. He tightened his legs around Bucky, mewling softly before nibbling against Bucky’s ear.

Bucky purred, running his fingers through Steve’s now-dry hair. He nuzzled against Steve’s face, raking his nose over Steve’s jawline and down his neck to press a kiss right at the middle of the base between the collarbones.

“I’m gonna come,” Steve professed softly. “Shit, I’m gonna come.”

Bucky didn’t say anything. He continued to move his hips, lazily and like nothing else mattered in the world. Nothing else probably _did_ matter in the world.

Steve clenched around Bucky, holding him inside, claiming Bucky in the most intimate way possible. Bucky was _his_ and his alone. Steve was enveloping him, pulling Bucky deeper and deeper, letting Bucky explore nerves and caverns no one else would ever lay claim to. Steve would be the only one to ever feel the way Bucky’s body radiated with warmth inside him as it enveloped him home, taking him until the world had no use for them or their stories anymore.

“Come in me,” Steve whispered, kissing Bucky quickly. “I wanna feel it.”

Bucky furrowed his brow, but he nodded, licking his bottom lip. “You sure?”

“Please,” Steve croaked. “I’m gonna be with you for the rest of my life. Why not?”

Bucky swallowed thickly, but he nodded, a small flicker of a smile against his lips before he was dipping down to scoop Steve’s lips up into his again.

They rocked gently into each other. Bucky letting Steve feel every dip, every line and bend of his cock. Steve letting Bucky feel every bit of texture, every bit of warmth he could provide. They kissed and kissed till Steve’s chin felt raw from Bucky’s stubble and his legs cried out from squeezing Bucky into him so hard.

Steve gasped, feeling his cock throb and shiver, letting his seed spill and paint their bodies creamy white. He clenched himself around Bucky, inadvertently but desperately as he cried out, kissing and sucking at Bucky’s ear as he continued to writhe from his orgasm. It pumped out of him like a never-ending storm, subsiding before coiling back up and washing back over his body.

“God, Stevie,” Bucky praised, pushing himself just a little bit deeper inside. “God, you feel so good.”

Steve smiled, hazy and fidgety as his orgasm _continued_ to plague his body. He rocked up, letting his cock smear against Bucky’s abs, watching as it squirt the last of his seed before finally letting that bone-melting sensation take over that would lead him right to sleep.

Bucky came not long after, though if it was immediate or an hour later, Steve would never know. It was warm, filling him inside and making him feel slicker than he’d ever imagined. He didn’t feel dirty. He felt pure. His lover was tucked securely inside him and he was the reason Bucky felt so good. His body gave Bucky everything he needed and Steve was rewarded with feeling extraordinarily warm.

Bucky’s lips came to Steve’s again, soft nibbles and murmurs of praise that Steve couldn’t recognize in a language of his own. He saw a flash of a smile, kind steel eyes and felt someone cradling his head.

Bucky slipped out of him. It was the only reason Steve knew what was happening.

Steve cried out, squeezing his legs around Bucky to try to bring him back.

“Hey,” Bucky cooed. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m right here. I’m here, kitten.”

Steve bit his lip, watching his lover’s face pull into focus.

“You left me for a second. Got worried,” Bucky explained.

Steve shook his head. “I’ve never felt so good.”

Bucky smiled, triumphant and proud. “I think Brock’s cooking.”

“He’s home?” Steve asked, trying to sit up but Bucky’s hand kept him against the bed.

“He’s been home for awhile, baby. When did I lose you?”

Steve blushed, looking away at a corner of the room. “I dunno.”

Bucky kissed the corners of Steve’s eyes, the tip of his nose, his cheekbones and the curve of his chin before placing a kiss on Steve’s lips. “We should clean you up.”

“Mmmrrr,” Steve growled in protest, sleepy and unthreatening.

Bucky snorted lightly. “You’re cute. But I don’t feel like changing the sheets…so…”

Steve laughed. “You’re so lazy!” He rolled off the bed, wincing as cooling semen trickled between his legs.

Bucky gasped, staring at Steve.

Steve hadn’t felt dirty, but a surge of panic wrecked through his body. He covered his cock and balls, biting his lip.

“N-no,” Bucky breathed. “I just– that’s. You’re beautiful.”

Steve dipped his chin, licking his lips. “You’re a sap.”

“And you’re a stubborn ox.”

“Do you think I can sneak out naked or will Brock see?” Steve asked, giggling. He wiggled in his spot, feeling the semen slowly creep down his legs still.

“I mean, you only live once?” Bucky joked.

“If I scar him, I blame you.”


	10. Happily Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With every tale comes the happy ending. Perhaps the journey may not have been smooth. Perhaps the outcome was not what one would have expected. But all has come to an end and the love story has concluded. Happily Ever after is more than fitting for the two lovers, separated by strife and distance and brought together by the simplest tools: a pen and paper to connect two spirits over impossible odds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Temporary edit: photobucket is downa t the moment which means the letters arent showing up in the story. As soon as the servees are back up, the photos should be restored. Well keep our fingers crossed!!!!
> 
>  
> 
> THE FINAL CHAPTER IS POSTED!!! THE FINAL CHAPTER IS POSTED. I REPEAT. THE FINAL. CHAPTER. IS. POSTED!!!!!!
> 
> AHHHHH!!!!! *RUNNING AROUND SCREAMING*
> 
> Thank you so much faithful readers for being so patient with this story! But at long last the final chapter is complete and the journey is over!!!! Thank you thank you thank you to you all and to my fellow author, L1av for this whole adventure! It's certainly been a hell of a ride and I'm so glad it's complete! At the end of the chapter is some amazing fanart made by the wonderful Eyesoffelina on Tumblr! Check out her art it's amazing!
> 
> ANYWAY, BE OFF WITH YOU NOW AND READ THE FINAL CHAPTER!!!! ENJOY MY PRETTIES! ENJOY!!!!

**_1 Year later_ **

It had been one year since the events of the “Christmas we don’t talk about” and spring was finally reaching its zenith. The sudden warmth in Brooklyn’s air brought about the promise of a very warm summer ahead, with balmy April nights and bright blue skies to follow.

But 11 short months after he and Steve had moved into Brock’s brownstone, the two of them had found a little place to call their own. The process of filing for rent had turned out to be a hell of a lot easier than he had thought considering his Veteran’s status, and within two weeks, the apartment was theirs for the taking.

Then began to fateful “move-in” day. He didn’t think it was possible, but Bucky had never anticipated on moving being such a damn hassle. Since he didn’t have a lot to his name, he hadn’t counted on the whole process being as annoying as it had turned out to be.  He’d expected that he and Steve would have been finished by afternoon, considering neither of them really had a lot. In reality, it had taken them both the whole day to get their things sorted, packed, and loaded onto the little rental U-Haul truck, make the drive across town, and then start the whole process in reverse. Thank God, Peter and Sam had been willing to help them out, otherwise they might have still been at it into the late hours of evening.

When everything was finally said and done, Bucky collapsed into the sofa he and Peter had dragged up the stairs, feeling bone-weary and covered in a light sheen of sweat. Peter and Sam had long since bid their goodbyes to the couple, declining the offer of food as a thank you for their help and went on their ways. Which left Bucky and Steve all to their lonesome in the new apartment.

Their apartment. Home.

Despite being tired, Bucky couldn’t help the thrill of excitement that bubbled up his chest at the thought. After so long, he finally had a place of his own. No more army, no more following orders from higher-ups. He was free. And the best part of it all was getting to share that freedom with the best human being he’d ever known in his life.

Huffing through his nose, Bucky looked up from the sofa to see Steve still bustling about their tiny kitchen, putting away utensils with a tired sort of eagerness. His shoulders slumped just a little bit, making his head tilt forward enough to catch the light off the crown of his head. His hair glowed just slightly under the warm lighting, making him look like the angel Bucky already knew he was.

Smiling to himself, Bucky sat up and leaned against the arm of the sofa, crossing his elbows on the cushion before beaming at the kitchen. “Hey, babe. C’mon and take a seat, the dishes ain’t gonna get up and walk away in the middle of the night. We’ll finish puttin’ the stuff away tomorrow.”

Steve looked up from his task, taken by surprise by Bucky’s voice. He smiled a little, glancing down at the plate in his hand before shrugging. “Yeah, I know. Just– just want to feel like this is all done with at last. I don’t wanna wake up in the morning and feel like we have a huge mess to clean up.  Wannabe totally done with this once and for all.”

“I know. Kinda feels weird that we finally have our own place,” Bucky agreed. “But, seriously. We have forever to finish putting away some China. Come and sit down with me and take a load off. You worked hard today.”

“Hmm, not really. I wasn’t the one that carried a couch up two flights of stairs.”

It took every ounce of Bucky’s willpower not to deflate. He inhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose to give himself a moment to come up with a proper response. He shouldn’t have been surprised really, but he still couldn’t believe that Steve still felt it necessary to have to prove himself around him. In all honesty, moving is a difficult task. Bucky wouldn’t have been disappointed at Steve if he hadn’t lifted a finger to help him. But Steve had been more than willing to dive in headfirst and carry what he could during the whole ordeal. But even still that didn’t seem to be enough for Steve; somehow, it still boiled down to the fact that Steve felt like he had to earn his keep around Bucky. He really needed to break that habit of his.

“No, you weren’t the one that carried a couch upstairs. But you had all the books and China and silverware. I think you did a lot for us today” Bucky said, winking at him. He hoped it was a convincing wink. He really hoped that it got Steve to stop being so hard on himself. “Come and sit down.”

Steve sighed at that, but relented at long last. Putting the dishes in his arms down, he crossed the room and dropped down into Bucky’s lap. He wrapped his arms around his neck, curling up into his chest with a contented sigh. Bucky could feel the last of his tension leaving him as he curled up in his arms, and he wrapped his own around his baby in a protective cocoon.

“This feels nice…” Steve murmured.

“See? What’d I tell ya?” Bucky asked. He gently ran his fingers up the expanse of Steve’s spine, feeling the smooth skin beneath his t-shirt, before dropping kisses to his crown. “It’s nice to relax after a hard day.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Don’t get any big ideas, I’m still the smart one here.”

Bucky laughed, throwing his head back in mirth. He tightened his grip around Steve’s waist, holding him close as tears pricked the corners of his eyes in laughter. Across the room, Jack lifted his head from the oversized cushion of his doggie bed and gave Bucky a reproachful look for rousing him. Bucky managed to get his giggles under control long enough to shoot Jack an apologetic look. “Sorry, Jack. I know you had a big day. Go back to sleep.”

Jack simply huffed and curled back up. It was clear who was really in charge in this family, and Jack took great care in making sure Bucky didn’t overstress himself. Sometimes, Jack’s demeanor reminded Bucky of an overstressed mother of five, rather than a pup fresh out of Service Dog School.

When his laughter finally abated, Bucky settled back into the cushion, resuming his work of petting Steve’s back and hair as the two of them finally unwound from their hard day. After a few minutes, Bucky glanced down at Steve and pressed a kiss to the bridge of his nose. “So, I really don’t feel like cookin’ tonight. What d’ ya say we order out?”

“I’m okay with that,” Steve murmured, his eyes closed happily as he nuzzled into Bucky’s chest. “Whatever you want to get I’m fine with. You gonna be mad at me if I order breadsticks or something?”

“Hell no. I’m allergic, but not you babe. You get whatever you want.”

After careful deliberation, Steve gave up on the idea of breadsticks and the two of them ordered Thai, calling in the order from the safe little nook of their couch. With their dinner on the way, they curled back into each other, relishing the silence around them for the duration of their wait.

It was nice to be able to take a moment to really just ruminate in their comfort. It wasn’t to say that Brock hadn’t been an accommodating roommate, but now that they had their own place, Bucky really felt like he had the chance to sit down and think about the future. The future of Bucky and Steve and what that could possibly mean. It was no surprise that Bucky had been seriously thinking about taking the next step with Steve. He’d even caught himself browsing engagement rings at the local jewelry store when he took Jack out for walks. But with the close quarters and little time to think and really plot any sort of future with Steve, nothing had come of it. Did he want to marry Steve someday soon? Hell fucking yes. And now with their own place to live in, that dream could possibly become a reality.

Just when Bucky felt like he could finally begin to doze off on the couch to the thoughts of proposing to his little bundle of blond, furious love, a knock came to their apartment door. He was roused fully when Jack got up and uttered one, sleepy “ruff!” at the door, his tail wagging behind him. Blinking his eyes open, Bucky looked up to the door, and a smile broke across his lips. Carefully, he extracted himself from Steve, setting the sleepy blond down onto the sofa before getting up and fetching their food. He handed over the bills to the delivery boy and carried the food into the kitchen. Good thing Steve had left out a couple plates. At least he wouldn’t have to go digging for them to find out where he’d put them.

With their food dished out, Bucky turned back to the living room just in time to find Steve waking up from his pseudo-nap, rubbing his knuckles along his eye in a sleepy fashion as he looked up at the kitchen. “Food’s here already?” Steve asked, stifling a yawn.

Bucky felt his heart flutter in his chest at the adorable display. Christ, Steve always looked so damn good… “Yep. 30 minutes goes by fast you know. Wanna sit in there and eat or come into the kitchen?”

“Kitchen. I don’t want to get food all over the sofa already. We just bought this thing.”

“Alright. I’ll get drinks from the fridge.” With that, Bucky set the plates down onto the kitchen table, turning to the fridge to grab cokes from inside and bumping the door shut with his hip. He turned back just in time to see Steve slump into one of the high-back chairs, still looking sleep rumpled, and he fought back a grin. Christ, it never ceased to amaze Bucky just how much he loved Steve. Just looking at him, with his messy blond hair and glossy blue eyes. Bucky couldn’t stop loving the faint blush to the apples of his cheeks, or the way he gazed up at him with equal devotion shining from his features. It physically hurt, how much Bucky adored this little blond bombshell he’d found in his life.

A little blond bombshell that was giving him weird looks as he held his drink hostage at the moment.

Snickering, Bucky gestured to the table to get Steve to sit. Without a word, he carefully set Steve’s drink in front of him, taking a seat next to him with a small squeak of the chair legs on the linoleum floor. Their meal was silent, save for the moment Bucky slipped Jack a piece of chicken from his plate. He got a stern look from Steve, before he backed off and held his hands up innocently to offer him a smile and a laugh. It all felt so damn domestic. Ask him a year ago if he would not have thought this to be even remotely possible. A year after the “incident”, and Bucky _still_ didn’t feel remotely worthy of Steve’s love.

Not that he was even interested in tempting that stroke of luck. Steve loved him and he showed it every single day. Bucky was going to take that precious gift and run with it for as long as he possibly could.

By the time the two of them had finally finished their meal, the sun had dipped below the horizon again, casting the room in a soft pink glow. Bucky was diligent as he carefully cleaned off the dishes and washed them, while Steve took the honor of running the garbage out to the back dumpster. Even Bucky felt a little sleepy from the long day and full belly weighing him down; by the time Steve returned, he too was leaning against the counter, yawning into his fist. “Hey, babe. The rest of the night is ours. What do you wanna do with it?”

Steve shrugged, shutting the door behind himself and locking them in for the night. “Dunno. Wanna watch a movie? Peter was nice enough to hook up our DVD player for us. He said something about that being the most important part of the whole move in process, considering we don’t have internet to get ‘freaky’ to, yet.” He finished with an affectionate roll of his eyes.

“Yeah, Netflix and chill is not happening tonight.” Bucky stood up properly and turned for the hallway. “I’m gonna go change out of these jeans and get comfy. You pick out the movie.”

“Grab my pajama bottoms, please?” Steve asked, offering him a doe-eyed look at his request.

“Sure thing.”

It didn’t take Bucky long to change into his own sleepwear, tossing the clothes into the corner of the room. Steve would probably scold him for doing that, but he was just too tired to walk them all the way to the hamper in the other room. With a smile, he fished Steve’s pants out from the drawer and carried them into the room. He gave a short little whistle when Steve kicked off his jeans right there in the living room, and he let his eyes roam over his lithe little figure for a moment in appreciation. “I’m likin’ what I see, Stevie.”

“Oh stop,” Steve giggled, throwing a balled up sock at Bucky from across the room. “Gimme my pants.”

“Nu uh, lemme admire for a minute.”

“Buckyyy!” Steve whined, rushing him from the other side of the room. “Gimme!”

Bucky grinned, holding the flannel bottoms up at arm’s length. This was one good thing about Steve being so small; Bucky usually got his way when he pulled this stunt around him. However, it seemed that this time, Steve would be having none of that, and he found himself surprised as the smaller man began to clamber up his body, clinging to his side as he reached for the pants desperately.

“Oh my God!” Bucky laughed, finally giving in. He handed the pants over to Steve and leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. “Okay, there, I played nice. Happy?”

“Mhm.” Steve grinned, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck, nuzzling into his front as he planted little, kitten kisses along his jawline from his vantage point. “C’mon I picked out a movie. Let’s go watch it before I collapse and fall asleep right here.”

“Well we can’t let that happen then, can we?” Bucky bent, scooping Steve up into his arms and held him bridal-style. He ignored the indignant squawk that he earned and quickly strode over to the couch. Dropping down into the cushions, he held Steve close in his lap as he reached for the remote. Despite his protests, Steve didn’t hesitate to settle right into Bucky’s arms, his knees tucked up to his chest as he curled into his front like a little, golden haired ball.

Bucky sighed in content, hitting ‘play’ on the remote and tossing it somewhere to the other side of the couch. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Steve’s body, holding him close as the opening credits of “Brave” began to play out in the quiet room.

“I really can’t believe this is our life,” he murmured, dropping random kisses against Steve’s ear and temple. “It only took us a year, but we finally did it. Our own place, Stevie. Just you and me. And to think we started off as just two faceless people on opposite sides of the world. Somehow, I got lucky enough to get paired up with you. I can’t imagine what would have happened if I had gotten paired up with anyone else.”

“Yeah,” Steve whispered. He twisted slightly in Bucky’s grip, glancing up at him through the soft glow of the TV, his eyes lighting up as he gazed at him. “Two strangers through letters and now we have our own home. Just the two of us. It’s perfect.”

“And your friends actually don’t hate me anymore. I never thought that would have happened after everything-”

“Don’t.” Steve said sharply. Looking up at Bucky, Steve leveled him with a look and shook his head. “Don’t bring it up. It’s been a year, Bucky. There’s no point in bringing it up anymore.”

Bucky sighed, slumping back into the cushion a bit. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Just– it really blows my mind, that’s all.”

“Shh. I’m busy watching Merida have a temper tantrum,” Steve answered, closing off that part of the conversation resolutely. He turned his eyes back to the television, though when he did, he reached up and brushed his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “It’s over and done with and it doesn’t change how I feel about you. That’s good enough for me.”

Bucky stared at Steve, his eyes burning a little at the corners. Yeah. He was right about that; if Steve no longer thought about it, then it should be good enough for Bucky. And it was. It really was.

Deciding that Steve was right, Bucky settled into the cushions of the sofa, holding his baby close to him as the two of them watched their movie in comfortable silence. Just before the final climax of the movie, Bucky felt Steve’s weight growing on him and he looked down. Realizing that Steve had finally dozed off in his arms, Bucky found a smile touching his lips. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Steve’s head before shutting off the TV. Carefully, he scooped up his boyfriend into his arms and carried him into the bedroom. He didn’t even bother to turn on the lights as he tucked him into the blankets and crawled in beside him.

Wrapping safely around his baby, Bucky pressed little kisses into his hair as he slept. He didn't’ have the heart to wake him up just to tell him goodnight, and simply lay his head on the pillow to watch Steve sleep for a while.

Yes. This was the life he’d been dreaming of for years now. He’d never know how lucky he’d gotten, winning this perfect human being’s heart, but he was never going to let go of him for as long as he lived. He was going to make damn sure of that.

* * *

 

The bustle of the cafe echoed loudly in the spacious room, making Bucky’s ears ring just a bit. He found himself gritting his teeth against the din, more annoyed with its presence than on edge. He’d gotten significantly better at handling more crowded places as time went on. After Peter had insisted that Bucky train himself to get used to crowds again, he and Steve had worked on coaxing the veteran back out into the thick of New York’s social life, little by little. It had taken them several months to get Bucky used to the cacophony again, but it was progress well worth fighting for.

Bucky was even proud of himself. Months ago, he probably would have found some excuse to flee the bustle of the cafe and retreat home. Now, he didn’t feel the slightest bit anxious as he sat with his companions, waiting for their drinks to arrive. The crowds were just as loud and cloistered, but that didn’t stop him from managing them all the same.

Still, he placed his hand on Jack’s head, giving the dog’s fur a ruffle as he smiled down at his guardian with gratitude for his vigilance.

“Okay! Finally got the drinks!” Clint said, breaking through the throng of noise to catch their attention. Bucky looked up just as Peter and Tony leaned forward in their seats, eagerly awaiting their drinks as well. “I got diabetes in a cup for Peter and an organic green tea latte for Tony. Meanwhile, a sensible coffee with cream and sugar for myself, and uh… Oh yes, out of season nog chock full of the unfertilized, murderous offspring of chickens for the Buckster.” Clint added, setting Bucky’s chai down with a grin.

“Hilarious. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you actually meant that,” Bucky sighed, rolling his eyes as he picked up his tea with a flourish. “You just can’t stand the fact that I’m so much prettier than you, Clint.” Bucky added, graciously “tossing” a strand of hair over his shoulder as he beamed at him across the table.

Peter snorted into his cup, getting a dollop of whipped cream on the tip of his nose as he looked between them. “Are we really gonna talk looks, ‘cause you know I got all you sorry fuckers beat in the genes department. Look at these cheekbones, really,” he added, gesturing to his face (oblivious to the cream on his nose).

“Good God, you are a clueless fucker,” Tony groaned. He reached up, swiping his hand over Peter’s nose before giving him a pointed look. “You can go sit at the kiddie table if you can’t drink your sugar coma like a big boy.”

The table broke into laughter at that as they enjoyed their drinks together. The silence was comfortable, and Bucky found himself offering fond smiles to his companions as he drank his tea. Dare he say, he could consider them friends now? After a solid year, he was pretty sure they had all gotten past their differences, and no one treated Bucky any different than they did each other anymore. Finally, trial and tribulation after one another, Bucky had found his place amongst Steve’s friends. Apartment of his own, friends, and an unyielding romance with the best guy he’d ever known in his life; Bucky really had it made.

Smiling to himself, Bucky took a sip of chai and scrubbed his fingers over Jack’s head, ruffling his ears. He looked down at the pooch, whose head sat on his knee obediently, and offered him a smile. “You look exhausted, Jackie. Long day of work, protecting me from the big, bad city?”

Jack whined and thumped his tail on the floor.

“I gotta admit,” Tony said, breaking through the moment of silence to offer Bucky a small smile. “That dog’s a good asset. I wanted to say, at some point, that I’ve really seen you progress over the past year. Though, don’t get me wrong, I’m gonna blame most of that progress on the dog and Peggy’s girl-toy. Can’t go easy on you, you know.”

Bucky glanced up at Tony, offering him a small smile. Of course the guy meant well; he’d learned to translate most of Tony’s quips over the past year, if Tony felt comfortable enough to tease you, then you were more than okay in his book.

“Thanks Tony,” Bucky replied, thinly veiled sarcasm dripping in his tone. Even still, his smile never left him as he continued to pet the pup in his lap. “Your feelings for me are beyond overwhelming.”

“Was that a flirt?” Peter asked, looking up from his coffee with wide eyes. “Holy moley, I think it was a flirt. Quick, call their respective significant others, before they start macking on the table!”

“Clam up, Quill!” Tony growled, throwing his arm over his neck and yanking him practically from his seat. “Don’t make me spread lies to Nat! I’m pretty sure sleeping arrangements on the _Milano_ ain’t as comfy when your girl’s taken over the only bed!”

Bucky and Clint watched in amusement as Tony and Peter wrestled by the table, clearly in danger of knocking the whole thing askew. They shot each other looks for a moment, before Clint grabbed his drink and held it up from the jostling table. “Ten bucks says we can steal their drinks, nip out of here, and they won’t have a fuckin’ clue.”

“15 bucks says Peter’ll kick your ass if you take his coffee, and I’ll hold you down while he does it,” Bucky shot back. He turned back to the table to shoot Peter a thumbs up, earning one in return from the strangled figure in Tony’s headlock.

The humor was short-lived. As Bucky sat back to watch the brawl on the other side of the table, snickering into his tea, he felt a hand land on his shoulder and give a squeeze. He didn’t think much of the action at first. But when a second squeeze, more insistent than the first, caught his attention, he looked up in annoyance to see who had interrupted his day out with his friends.

Annoyance that quickly melted in gut-wrenching terror.

Above him, Bucky was met with the righteous glower of Sarah Rogers, her fingers firm on his shoulder as she met his blue-gaze head on. Her own eyes brooked no argument, her lips a thin line as she stared down at the young man in her grip.

“Hello, James. Fancy seeing you here this morning,” Sarah murmured. Her tone was one of quiet resolve and no warmth. Her fingers loosened on his shoulder for a moment before she looked up to see the rest of the group had finally taken notice of her, and she nodded once in greeting. “Boys…”

No one spoke a word. It was as if a deathly silence had fallen over the cafe at that moment, all eyes locked on the two figures before them. Peter broke the silence first, sitting up from his crouched position as he met Sarah’s gaze. “Sarah, it’s… I’m sorry, we were just-”

“You don’t need to explain your behaviors in public, Peter.” Sarah said. She finally removed her hand from Bucky’s shoulder and gracefully took a seat next to the petrified young man at her side. “However, if you all wouldn’t mind, I’d like to have a little chat with James. Alone, please.”

Instantly, Tony and Clint sprang to their feet, giving the table a wide berth and Bucky an apologetic look. They backed away from the table towards the entrance of the cafe, silently bidding Bucky good luck with whatever “heart to heart” Sarah had in store for him.

Peter, on the other hand, stayed put. He didn’t move from his chair, his eyes darting between his friend and his best friend’s mother for a moment. “If whatever you want to talk about has to do with the Incident, Sarah… it’s over with. Bucky hasn’t done anything wrong. I can vouch for him. Everyone can.”

Bless him, Bucky hadn’t felt so relieved in his life. Sure, he understood Tony and Clint bolting at the sign of trouble. Peter, on the other hand, remained unerringly faithful to Bucky. Even now, in the glowering presence of Sarah, he chose to stay resolutely at his side. Bucky had never felt so much gratitude for one person in his life. No wonder he and Steve made such a well-fit pair of best friends.

Sarah looked between the two of them. Her hands folded neatly on the table before she opened her mouth to speak again. This time, her voice was low and smooth, though the authority behind her tone was unmistakable. “Peter. I didn’t come here to start a confrontation. I came here to talk to James. Please, give us a moment, and then I will be out of your hair. I promise.”

Peter didn’t move for a second. Instead, his eyes flickered to Bucky for a moment, his lips a thin line of concern. However, Bucky simply smiled to his friend, and gestured to him that it would be alright. He felt a lot better, knowing he had Peter’s support for the time being. He just hoped Peter didn’t frantically text Steve about this surprise meeting. The last thing he needed was a tiny bundle of blond, righteous fury to come barreling into the cafe and make this any worse than it needed to be. “It’s okay, Peter. I got this.”

For a moment longer, no one moved. After a beat, Peter finally got to his feet, nodding to Bucky before he shot Sarah a gentle salute. “Give a holler when you’re done,” he said to them before plucking up his drink and departing the table in haste.

Left alone now, Bucky found himself tearing his gaze from the door Peter had just vacated. He glanced over at Sarah, feeling his pulse racing in his throat as he met her cool, steely gaze. He cleared his throat, wringing his hands in his lap. Next to him, Jack whimpered in his chest, settling his head onto Bucky’s thigh and licking his hands in a soothing gesture. Bless that dog, he already knew Bucky’s heart was racing a mile a minute.

“So,” Bucky murmured, glancing up at Sarah through the curtain of hair that had fallen in his face. “I have a feeling you’re not here for the lattes.”

“You’d be right about that,” Sarah said. She didn’t so much as move as she let her eyes ghost over Bucky’s figure for a long moment. After a time, she changed the subject, her shoulders slumping a little. “How’s Steve?”

“He’s fine,” Bucky said stiffly. He leveled his own gaze on her, feeling a wiggle of irritation forming in his gut at her question. Irritation that began to fester in the anxiety of this random, terrifying talk she’d sprung on him out of nowhere. She and Steve had parted on ugly terms, following the events of Bucky’s mistake. He couldn’t be mad at Sarah for what had happened to him. But he was sure as fuck mad at her for not even bothering to contact Steve for an entire year! “I mean, you’d know that he’s fine if you’d spoken to him recently.”

Sarah looked up at Bucky, her lower lip pulling in a barely concealed scowl. “James, I didn’t come here to start a fight with you. I came to check up on my son and you.”

“What for?” Bucky asked. Now, his anxiety had devolved in anger, and he found his fingertips digging into his knee as he stared at her. “Why the hell would you want to check up on me? You hate me. You made that real damn clear to Steve the last time you saw him. And if you were so worried about your son, why the hell are you coming to me instead of him?”

“Because he won’t speak to me, James!” Sarah snapped. She looked him straight in the eye, though Bucky found himself stunned to find no anger in her gaze. Her eyes were weary, lined with long hours and fretful nights. The blue of her eyes was dull and lifeless, and the faintest touch of red rimmed her eyes from where he could see. “He won’t speak to me. I’ve tried contacting him countless times over the year. All of my calls rejected. All of my attempts to talk to him, ignored. So I came to you to at least see if Steve is alright. If he’s fairing alright.”

Sarah lowered her gaze, her eyes welling up with tears as she stared at her lap. “I can’t do this anymore, James. I miss my son. I want to see him again. But this–this rift between us… it’s too much. I just want to talk to him again and tell him how sorry I am for my actions.”

Bucky listened to her. His anger dissipated quickly at her words and he found himself tearing his own gaze away from her to stare at his tea. Beside him, Jack whined a little louder and threw his big paws into Bucky’s lap. He looked down to see the dog leverage himself up to lick at Bucky’s jaw eagerly. Bucky smiled and leaned into the licks, taking the comfort from his service dog and allowing his actions to placate him back into a sense of calm. “You know why he won't speak to you… I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t there. But you were.” He looked up at Sarah, biting his lip. “What exactly happened between you two that last day? Steve never spoke about it since then.”

Sarah shook her head. She didn’t look up at him before she found her word again, shaky and emotional. “The last fight, I told Steve I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted to protect him. I was insistent. I couldn’t understand why Peter and Steve had been so quick to pretend–” Sarah stopped. Looking up at Bucky, she backtracked. “I couldn’t understand why the two of them had so easily forgiven you for what had happened. I was angry and scared. Scared for Steve’s sake.”

She spoke on, placing her palm on the table to steady herself. “I was terrified that if– if you lost control again, that the next person you attacked would be Steve. After I saw what had happened to Peter, it just terrified me to no end that Steve would meet the same fate. And he’s so frail and small, James. One punch could end him in an instant.”

Finally, Sarah met Bucky’s gaze again, her own eyes welling heavily with tears. “I didn’t know what to expect, and I feared that if he left, and you lost control around him, no one would be there to protect him. What if one panic attack was all it took, James? One bad dream in the middle of the night while he was sleeping? Christ, I was scared that if you got a hold of a kitchen knife in the middle of an episode that you would have attacked him! For an entire year, I was scared out of my wits that I would show up at work and find my son in the emergency room with no idea. Do you understand now why I was so scared?!”

“I do get it!” Bucky shot back. HIs own throat tight as he stared at her. His hands trembled around the dog’s shoulders as he held Jack in his lap. “You think I wasn’t scared about the same damn thing happening?! You don’t think I woke up at night, thinkin’ I did something terrible to Steve? I beat myself up over Peter for months! I still don’t forgive myself for it, but Steve won’t let me dwell on it.”

Inhaling slowly, Bucky leaned his elbows on the table, pushing Jack down to the floor to stare hard into Sarah’s eyes. “I was so fuckin’ scared about hurting Steve. Sometimes I still am. But I got Jack now, and our friends. I haven’t been this stable in a long time, and Steve is a big part of that. Steve is everything to me, and it took me almost a year to realize that maybe I do deserve him after all. You think I’d let myself have an episode and hurt the one person I care about more than life itself? You’d be wrong, Sarah. Real damn wrong...”

Silence fell between them at last. Neither moved as they met each other’s gazes, challenging the other in a wordless battle of emotions. But it was Sarah that cracked first. Tearing her eyes from Bucky, she inhaled slowly and calmed her tears with a shuddering breath. “I just want to know, James… how much do you love my son?”

Bucky hesitated for a moment. How could he describe in words exactly how much Steve meant to him? Sonnets didn’t do him justice. Poems, love songs, none of that even came close to how Bucky felt for him. Asking him to describe his feelings for Steve in words was doing his lover a terrible disservice.

“How much do I love him? There’s literally no way to describe how much I love him,” he said honestly. When he received an unimpressed look from Sarah, he found a smirk dancing at the corners of his mouth. “He’s literally the reason I wake up every morning. He’s the reason I go to bed at night. I can’t sleep without him in my arms, and I can’t wake up without kissing him in the morning. If I don’t get to talk to him at lunchtime, it ruins my whole damn day. I could spend hours upon hours locked in a windowless room with him and be the happiest man in the world.”

Bucky pressed his palm to the back of his neck, feeling a flush dancing over his cheeks as he stared at the table, pouring out his soul to her. “Steve is the reason I came home from the war. If I hadn’t had Steve, I would be dead right now. I would have given up in that raid that took half my platoon. But I had Steve to come home to and there was no way in hell I was going to let something stupid like a war keep us apart. I knew even then that he was the guy I wanted to spend the rest of my life with– and now that I have him, I’m _never_ going to ruin this miracle in my whole life. I almost lost him once because I was too scared to seek out help for my PTSD. I will never, _ever_ make the stupid mistake of letting my pride get in the way of him.”

“I don't’ deserve him, Sarah. No one on this planet will ever be deserving of your son because your son is literally an angel that was born to be loved by a perfect human being.” Bucky tightened his fingers on his lap into a fist. His heart thrummed to life in his chest at his words and he found a laugh escaping him. “But for some insane reason, God thought that he and I were meant to be together. And you bet your ass, I’m gonna do right by him. I love him so much, Sarah. I love him more than life itself, and I want to die an old man, married to him, knowing I gave it my all to be that perfect human being Steve deserves.”

Neither spoke for a moment; after Bucky’s explanation, the air between the two of them filled with a static charge of tension. Bucky had no clue if his words would make an impact on Sarah, but for Steve’s sake he prayed they did. He didn’t care if Sarah never really liked him again. All he cared about was the two of them gaining back their relationship.

After a long moment, Sarah lowered her eyes to the table. Without a word, she folded her hands on the wooden top, and took a deep breath to steady herself. When she finally looked up at Bucky, her eyes were clear and focused, her gaze boring into him for a long moment. “I heard you got a job. Working at the VA clinic?”

Bucky nodded, holding his breath as he waited to hear where she went with her statement. “Yes, ma’am…”

Sarah nodded. “And your plan is to support my son until the end? Take care of him through everything you two go through, and seek help from others when you need it?”

A jolt of excitement shot through Bucky’s chest. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Bucky,” Sarah murmured, using his nickname at long last. “Just do me a favor. I _require_ Phil Collins to play during our dance at your wedding. Please don’t forget that.”

The statement hit Bucky like a sack of bricks. He stared at her for a long moment, gob smacked by her blatant words. At his side, Bucky felt Jack whimper slightly, licking his hand to try and rouse him from his shock. Bucky simply patted the dog’s head in return, never once tearing his gaze away from the woman next to him. “Sarah…”

“Your intentions are to marry my son, aren’t they, Bucky?” Sarah asked. She straightened her shoulders out and sat proudly before him. “I mean, this is the vibe I’m getting from you right now. Please don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“No! No, God, no you’re not wrong,” Bucky exclaimed. A laugh bubbled up his chest at his outburst, and a familiar burning caught the corners of his eyes as he watched the woman in front of him hopefully. He couldn’t believe it. The last tie to Steve’s old life, sitting before him and giving him her blessing to marry her son after everything they had all been through. It was truly a damn miracle.

“Have you proposed to him yet?”

Bucky shook his head, surreptitiously wiping at his eyes as a hysterical laugh escaped him at last.

Sarah tisked, fighting a smile at the corners of her mouth as she watched him. “Well, then. You better get on that mister. I’m getting too old to wait for adopted grandchildren you know…”

* * *

 

Something was fishy. He just knew it. Something was definitely going on, or his name wasn’t Steven Grant Rogers. Steve had always been pretty good at spotting a conspiracy, and if he didn’t know any better, everyone he knew was involved in some sort of nefarious plot he wasn’t aware of. It was rather disconcerting.

For the fifth time, he looked over to see Peter glancing at his phone with little discretion, seemingly looking for some sort of text message, a message from the mothership. He had no idea. But it was getting really annoying.

“What the hell are you doing?” Steve asked, punching his best friend’s shoulder. He hid a smirk when Peter rubbed at his arm with a pout, and he rolled his eyes. “Stop it, I didn’t hit you that hard.”

“Bullshit. You may be puny, but you got some mean, sharp knuckles on you,” Peter complained. “And what’re you being so suspicious about? I’m checking up on my Seahawks.”

“Even I know that’s a bold faced lie. What’re you hiding? And why aren’t you paying attention to me? You kidnapped me all day for some supposed best bros date and then you ignored me for the past hour. My feelings are kinda hurt and I think we need to see other people.”

“Har har,’ Peter rolled his eyes. “You’re a riot. You know damn well you could never find a best friend as awesome as me.” Just then, Peter’s phone pinged with a notification. He glanced down at it, reading the text message carefully before stuffing the phone into his pocket. “Sorry, _that_ time I was ignoring you. Nat texted me, asking if I was going to her place for dinner. I told her we could do a drive by, but you and I had plans anyway.”

Steve shrugged, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets. “I don’t mind if you want to go have dinner with your girlfriend. I should probably go home and see if Bucky’s back from work yet, or if I should start cooking so he doesn’t have to.”

“Aww,” Peter pouted, crossing his arms. “Oh alright. Just do a drive by with me to Nat’s and then I’ll walk you home okay?”

“Alright, weirdo. Can’t get enough of me I guess,” Steve snickered.

“Baby, you light up my world,” Peter sighed, batting his eyes at him before nudging his side. “C’mon, let’s go.”

The two of them settled into comfortable silence as they walked. The sun was just reaching for the horizon, readying to set for the day, and a faint chill of summer night began to settle over the city. When they finally turned the corner to Natasha’s apartment, Steve followed Peter up the stairs. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to call Bucky and check up on him, but before he could dial, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his shoulders and tug him into a hug. He yelped, looking up to see Nat smiling down at him cheerfully.

“Hey, cutie!” Nat grinned as she pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Glad you could swing by. You sure you don’t want dinner with us? I’m making potato cakes and sausage. Good stuff!”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head as he finally wormed his way out of her grip. “Nah, I’m good Nat. Really, it does sound good but I have to head home and start cooking for Bucky. He’s been at work all day and I’m pretty sure he and Jack are in serious need of some dinner.”

“Well that’s a shame. At least have a drink with us before you go.”

Steve contemplated it for a moment before nodding. “Alright, one drink. I guess I owe you guys some quality time too.” With that, Steve followed Natasha into the apartment, closing the door behind him.

Shortly after Steve had made the trek down the hallway towards Natasha’s kitchen, Peter bustled past him, his phone pressed to his ear with a worried look on his face. Instantly, Steve tensed up at the concerned look, and he reached out to grab Peter’s elbow. “Hey, what’s up? Everything alright?”

Peter grimaced, looking down at him for a moment before he shook his head once. “I dunno. Something’s going down at the docks. Some shithead kids I think. Apparently they're tagging boats with some nasty shit and dicking with the boats. I have to go check and make sure the _Milano’s_ safe. I really can’t afford any repair bills right now.”

“Shit,” Steve breathed, nodding in earnest at his friend’s concern. “Yeah, go. I’ll be fine to walk home alone. Thanks for the man-date, Peter. I hope your boat’s okay.”

“Me too,” Peter sighed. He looked up at Natasha, who had stepped up behind Steve’s back, and leaned in to press a kiss to her lips. “Don’t wait up for me. I have no idea how long this is gonna last.”

“You got this, Peter. Good luck!” Nat said, waving to her boyfriend. When Peter vacated the apartment, she turned and placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “C’mon, that drink’s waiting for you on the table.”

Steve frowned, glancing over his shoulder to the door Peter had just fled through. Dammit, he felt bad that his friend looked so concerned. He hated seeing Peter looking upset. “I dunno, Nat. Maybe I should go with him. I dunno what I can do to help but–”

“Don’t worry about Peter. He’ll be fine,” Natasha said. She tugged a little more insistently on Steve’s shoulder, flashing him a smile as she led him to the kitchen. “Drink’s warming up.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked. By now, his earlier suspicions had come back full force and he dug his heels in a little as he followed her. “I really should probably see if Peter needs help.”

“Nope. Drink time,” Natasha said. By then, she had dragged him into the kitchen, where a bottle of beer sat on the table. “Drink up, I’ll be right back.” With that, Natasha disappeared into the hallway, leaving Steve alone in the kitchen.

He glanced back where she had disappeared and he huffed a small laugh. “Weird day,” Steve murmured. Still, he crossed the room and reached out for the bottle of beer. Only, when he did, he caught sight of a piece of paper sitting on the table. More accurately, it was an envelope and on the front his name was scrawled across the paper. The handwriting was painfully familiar.

“What the–” Steve murmured. He reached out, plucking up the letter as he read Bucky’s chicken-scratch handwriting for a moment. HIs day had officially gone from weird, to totally bizarre now. “The hell are you doing, Bucky?”

Without wasting a moment, Steve tore the envelope open. Inside, was a single piece of paper, tri-folded, and on the paper was a short message. As Steve read over the message, the enormity of his bizarre day reached its climax, and he felt his heart racing to life in his chest at the words on paper.

** **

Steve tore his gaze away from the letter for a moment, staring at the far wall in confusion. He blinked slightly, taking a moment to really gather his thoughts. “What the _hell_ is Bucky doing?” he muttered to himself. Curiosity took hold of him for a moment, and his heart ramped up a few paces in his chest. A game. Bucky wanted to play a game with him. Not even just a game; a damn scavenger hunt! Whatever was at the finish line had to be good if he went through all this trouble to plan this out for Steve.

Peter and Nat. He was going to have to both slap them and hug them for setting him up so flawlessly. He’d literally had no clue all day. He really had amazing friends.

Steve looked up to the window, his eyes catching the sight of the sun inching its way towards the horizon. The sky was cast in faint shades of orange, and Steve realized right then and there, his clock was running out very quickly. He had no idea how long this scavenger hunt was going to take, but he would be damned if he didn’t complete Bucky’s challenge.

Glancing down at the paper, Steve read over the letter again, reading over Bucky’s clue one more time. It didn’t take him long to figure out what Bucky was talking about, and he laughed outright. Their first date. Bucky was talking about the Art museum.

“The Lovers. How ironic,” Steve grinned to himself. Pocketing the letter, he grabbed his sweater from the chair and threw it on before darting for the front door of Natasha’s apartment. He had no idea where she’d disappeared to, but from the look of his evening, it seemed like he wouldn't’ be seeing her again any time soon.

As he hailed a taxi and climbed into the backseat of the vehicle, Steve pondered over the last part of Bucky’s letter. He got the reference to the painting right away, but he had no idea what Bucky was talking about for his final clue. “Slam Winos. What the hell is that…” He muttered to himself as he watched the streets beyond the taxi whizz by.

It took him the duration of the taxi ride to try and figure out what Bucky meant by that, and by the time Steve crawled from the backseat and paid the driver for his fare, Steve still hadn’t figured out the clue. Frustrated, the blond pushed the door of the taxi shut and made his way towards the building. But then he stopped. Staring up at the building, Steve realized that the painting was in the thick of the building, which meant if he wanted to go find his next clue, he’d have to pay the 16 dollar admission fee just to go see one painting. Briefly, Steve wondered if Bucky had taken that into consideration, but nevertheless began to fish around his pocket to grab his wallet for the admission.

However, Steve was saved the trouble by the sound of a voice calling his name. Looking up from his wallet, Steve spotted Sam across the large sidewalk, leaned up against the wall of the building. Blinking in confusion, Steve briefly wondered if this was just coincidence that he happened to run into Sam at that exact moment. Odds were, it wasn’t a coincidence.

As Steve approached his friend, he glanced down at the letter in his hand. HIs eyes skimmed over the words once more before landing on the mystery phrase at the bottom. Epiphany struck him like a lightning bolt and he looked up at Sam with dawning realization.

Slam Winos was Sam Wilson. Bucky had written him a damn anagram.

“Oh my _God_ I feel stupid now!” Steve cried, laughing openly as he jogged up to his friend’s side. Holding out the letter to Sam, he offered him a hopeful look and a grin. “So. I take it you’re my next clue.”

“Man, I told him anagrams were gonna be a stupid idea,” Sam chuckled. Waving off the letter in Steve’s grip, Sam fished into his own pocket and withdrew another envelop to pass to him. “My feet were gettin’ tired standing here. You better hurry up. Sun’s going down, Steve.”

“I know, I know!” Steve chuckled, ripping open the envelope as he spoke. “Seriously, what is Bucky doing?”

“Hell if I know. He came to me asking me the best way to start up some sort of romantic game with you and asked my advice on some ways to make it work. Then he just gave me this letter and told me to stand here and wait for you. Beats me why he’s doing it,” Sam said, shrugging openly. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have dinner to go make and television to vegetate in front of. Good luck on your game!”

Steve waved to Sam in return, his attention returning to the letter in his hands. Eagerly, he tore the paper open and plucked out the paper inside. Like the first letter, this one was just as short and simple, supplying Steve with the next clue to his game. There was one small difference between the two letters. Unlike his first clue, Steve found himself face to face with a letter _and_ a photograph of himself and Bucky. The photo had been taken a few months ago, from the look of it, right around Valentine’s Day. Steve had worn a bright red sweater that day, while Bucky had donned the most obnoxious, romantic t-shirt he’d found on the internet and dragged him out to dinner that evening.

While Steve had pretended to be slightly put-out by Bucky’s insistence that they spend money they didn’t really have to spare, he’d thoroughly enjoyed himself, and had snapped dozens of photos on his phone of the two of them out that evening. Their final photo of the evening now sat in his palm, staring back at him. His eyes roamed over the image of Bucky pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek, while Steve grinned at the phone in his hands.

Grinning openly, Steve shifted his attention back to the letter in his hands and unfolded the sheet to begin skimming the letter carefully.

** **

 

Steve snickered to himself, casting a glance up to the horizon as he finished Bucky’s letter. Shit. He only had a couple more hours to go; he’d better make this quick!

Knowing exactly what kind of clues Bucky was leaving behind, Steve wracked his brain carefully to try and figure out exactly where it was he was supposed to go next. This one turned out to be a little harder than the first; Bucky had been purposefully vague this time with his clue, leaving Steve spinning his wheels for a moment.

Steve, quite literally, stumbled across his next location by accident. As he wandered down the block, trying to figure out where he was supposed to go to find people just like Bucky, he ran smack dab into a burly figure on the sidewalk. Stumbling backwards, Steve’s hand shot out and he grasped onto the first thing he could to keep himself from falling. That thing happened to be a wrist, attached to a painfully familiar figure in front of him.

“Brock!” Steve exclaimed, grinning up at the older man. He looked just this side of frazzled, and when Steve called his name, Brock looked down in surprise at the tiny figure next to him. Surprise, which quickly turned into chagrin.

“Damn, I knew I was runnin’ late,” Brock grumbled. His expression turned sheepish as he smiled down at the blond next to him.

“Running late? Are you my next clue?” Steve asked. He glanced down at the letter in his hands, and he grinned. Another anagram that could only spell out Brock Rumlow. Sam was right. They were kind of dumb, in the most adorable way possible.

“Yep. Guess I’ll save you the trouble of making it all the way to the VA clinic.” Brock reached into his pocket at that moment, before his expression fell. He patted down his pockets for a moment, growing more desperate before he groaned. “Shit! I left it at home!” he groaned openly.

Steve frowned heavily at that admittance. Brock had been his clue and without his letter, Steve wasn’t going to be able to find his next clue. His game with Bucky would be over. “It’s okay, Brock. I probably wouldn’t have figured out the next clue anyway. I didn’t even get that I was supposed to meet you at the VA.” He was pretty sure he sounded more pitiful than he wanted to, but he’d been really looking forward to continuing this game.

“Well don’t get yer panties all in a twist. You still got a bunch more clues to go figure out.” Brock explained. Gesturing to the streets beyond the sidewalk, Brock threw his arm around Steve’s shoulders to steer him back the way he came. “How’s about I walk with you for a little bit, and make sure you don’t get off track. Sun’s goin’ down, and Bucky ain’t gonna wait the whole night, you know.”

“Wait… so you know where it is I’m supposed to go next?” Steve asked, glancing up at his companion with growing hope.

“Yeah I kinda have an idea of what he’s got you doin with this whole thing. I’m just not really savvy on the rest of the details. I can at least get you to your next spot as quick as possible. I just feel bad I kinda ruined the novelty of the game for ya.”

Steve exhaled sharply and beamed up at his friend. “It’s okay! As long as whoever’s waiting for me next doesn’t forget their letter.”

“Yeah, cause then you’d be screwed, I don't know anything else after that.” Brock chuckled.

Their walk was brisk as they cut through the thinning crowds of people that evening. With the setting sun, people set off for home, ready for dinner and relaxation after long days. At least the two of them didn’t quite have to fight through the crowds to get to their next destination; Steve was surprised to find the two of them marching their way towards the less than cozy sections of Brooklyn at that point. Steve wouldn't’ say it out loud, but he was pretty certain Brock only knew where he was going because Bucky had asked him to accompany him. Having Brock with him would certainly deter any less than savory individuals from approaching Steve at his next clue.

When they turned the corner, Steve spotted a small sports shop, boasting a sign selling SCUBA equipment. Instantly, Steve realized what his next clue would have been. The wetsuits. Bucky’s clue would have been their evening at the cabin when they went polar bear swimming.

Grinning openly, Steve scanned the sidewalk, only to quickly pick out Clint standing by the building. Turning to cast his companion a nod, Steve reached out and pulled Brock into a hug. “Thanks for walking with me. I think I got it from here.”

“No sweat, kid,” Brock returned, squeezing him gently. “Just be careful with your next clue and good luck finding Bucky. He went through a lot of trouble to set this up for you. He’s gonna be real happy when you find him.”

Emboldened by Brock’s words, Steve pulled away and offered the taller man a salute. With his goodbyes in order, Steve turned and jogged across the street to meet up with Clint. Sure enough, he caught sight of his friend reaching into his pocket already, and another swell of excitement caught him off guard. He was so close to finding Bucky now. He couldn’t wait to see what his boyfriend had in store for him after he’d beaten his game.

However, before he’d even made it ten steps towards Clint, a howl of protest echoed through the darker street, making Steve jump in his skin. Before he could whirl around and see who the hell was screaming, an arm wrapped around his shoulders, spinning him on his heels for a moment.

“Noooo!”

“What, what?!” Steve shouted, flailing his arms out to try and fight off whoever was grabbing him. However, the minute he did, he looked up to see a shock of dark brown hair, and painted red nails, and he glanced up in surprise to see Angie holding onto his shoulders. “Angie?! The hell are you doing?!”

“No, no no! I knew that dope was going to forget!” Angie protested. She looked up across the street, where the two of them spotted Clint. With a squeak, Clint suddenly scurried away from the wall he was leaning against and darted down the alleyway to his left. “You’re throwing off the groove, Barton!”

“Groove?!” Steve exclaimed. He looked up at Angie in surprise, pulling out of her clutches to give her a scandalized look. “What in God’s name are you talking about?”

Angie huffed, throwing her hands out to the sides. “You’re supposed to see English and I first, Steve! Before you go talk to Clint. He wasn’t supposed to be standing out in plain sight. Some spy he’d make!”

Steve stared at her for a long moment before barking out a laugh. “Wait, so you and Peggy are my next clue?”

“Yes!” Angie said. “Everyone’s in on this whole thing. Brock is supposed to drop you off by me and English, then the two of us send you to go find Clint and Tony. But some birdbrain forgot the order and decided to hang out in the middle of the damn street!”

“So Sam _does_ know what this is all about,” Steve said. He fought back an amused look, and instead crossed his arms over his chest in disappointment. “He lied to me. Said he had no idea what was going on.”

“You’re too gullible,” Angie grinned. Ruffling her fingers through his blond hair, she tugged him along the sidewalk towards a little coffee shop at the corner. There, the two of them spotted Peggy sitting at one of the outside tables, holding a small box in her lap. “English! Clint ruined the groove, Steve knows he and Tony are the next clue.”

“What?” Peggy exclaimed. She rolled her eyes in annoyance but turned to face the two of them with a crooked smile. “And Bucky put so much work into plotting this whole thing out.”

“How many people are involved?” Steve asked, sounding shocked by the revelation.

“Everyone, Steve. Everyone’s involved,” Peggy said. She patted the seat next to her and waited until Steve sat next to her before glancing up at her girlfriend. “Darling, would you be so kind as to call Clint and Tony and have them come here? Might as well just get both things over with at once, instead of having Steve run around willy nilly at this point.”

“Aww and this was supposed to be fun,” Angie sighed. Nevertheless, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to Peggy’s lips before stepping away and withdrawing her cell phone from her purse.

Steve watched her go for a moment before turning to face Peggy again. “So everyone’s in on this. How long have you guys known this whole thing was going to happen?”

“A couple weeks now. Peter and I were the first ones Bucky turned to. Everyone else just sort of fell into place,” Peggy explained. As she did, she held out the small box to Steve. When Steve reached out and plucked it from her fingers, she offered him a smile and a nod. “And we were all more than happy to help you out with that.”

Steve didn’t answer for a moment. Instead, he turned his attention to the box in his lap. Pulling the flaps open, he peered inside, only to feel his chest constrict at the sight. Inside the box were Bucky’s dogtags from the war. One of the dogtags had a chunk missing from the metal, and they looked like they were both beaten up pretty badly. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what they symbolized.

“He-“ Steve stopped, swallowing for a moment. “He did say that he almost died when he was over there. I guess I just could never really imagine how bad it was.” Reaching into the box, Steve plucked up the dogtags and held them aloft. He could only imagine the horror Bucky had faced, watching his comrades die around him in the middle of chaos. He could only imagine how sore and scared and sick he felt as he was pummeled with debris and blood.

Steve vividly remembered the letter Bucky had given hm. He could vividly remember what it said as it described the nightmare he had endured just to get back to him alive. And these dogtags: they symbolized the scars Bucky had experienced during those terrifying moments in his life. Bucky really was a survivor, and he’d done so just for Steve. It was nothing short of a miracle.

Inhaling sharply, Steve fought back a wave of tears as he carefully tucked the dogtags into his pocket. He set the box down on the table and leveled Peggy with a watery gaze. “So…”

“Yes,” Peggy said. Quietly, she reached out and pulled him into her arms. She peppered kisses into his temple, letting Steve cling to her for a moment before she continued on. “Like Brock, I don’t have a letter for you. Brock was supposed to symbolize the fact that friends are there to help guide us on our paths and keep an eye on our six at all times. I’m here with Angie as a reminder that there will always be pain in life, but we will always be here to support and protect you. That’s what friends do. We guide, we lead and we protect. We love, unconditionally. Just like Bucky loves you unconditionally.”

Steve sniffled. He looked up at her, his lips pulling into a small smile as he watched her. “I am surrounded by a whole clan of saps,” he laughed. Reaching out, he tickled his fingers across his friend’s ribs, watching as Peggy laughed and swatted at his arms as she tried to evade his onslaught. “Admit that you’re all saps and I’ll stop tickling you!”

“Yeesh, Ange, you think you know a guy,” a voice piped up. Steve and Peggy looked up to see Angie standing with Tony and Clint, the three of them watching their onslaught with bemusement. “And to think you are in a committed relationship with the host of this game. What do you think he’d said if he knew you were fraternizing with one of the NPC’s?” Tony asked, crossing his arms.

Steve rolled his eyes before rising to his feet. “It’s not fraternizing if I’m getting my clues fair and square. Clint, I hear messed up and gave you two away. S’not my fault I could take a break from riddle solving because of that.”

“Sassy. He’s getting worse ever since he started dating Barnes,” Clint shot back, flashing Steve a wicked look. “Okay, fine, I messed up the game. Do you want your letter or not?”

Steve perked up at the mention of his next clue and he nodded eagerly. “Yes please!” he exclaimed, holding his hands out expectantly to Clint.

With a flourish, Tony withdrew the letter he was supposed to give Steve at that moment. However, the moment Steve reached out to take the letter from him, Tony latched onto his wrist and yanked him forward. With a yelp of surprise, Steve crashed into Tony, where he was enveloped suddenly in two sets of arms. “Uhh-“ Steve said, looking up at Tony and Clint in confusion.

Clint shushed him and gave one good squeeze before letting go of the embrace. “Just shut up and accept the hug, dammit. We’re real damn happy that this game is going on so just-“ He stopped, and waved at him to look at the letter. “Just real damn happy you accepted Bucky’s challenge, that’s all.”

“What the hell,” Steve said. He was still wrapped up in Tony’s embrace at that moment, and he looked up to see the other man still hugging him tightly. Well, this went from poignant to weird really quick.

“Shhh, just let it linger,” Tony said. After a long, silent, and very awkward moment, he finally let go of Steve and handed him the letter. “That was me apologizing for months of pain, misery, and agony. Don’t ask me to do it again,” he said, crossing his arms and looking a little flustered.

Steve watched him for a long moment before he snorted. “I already knew you had apologized for- well, the thing. But, I guess a hug works too.”

“Yeah yeah, open your damn letter,” Tony said, waving his hand at him. Steve wasn’t fooled by his bravado. He could clearly see that Tony was touched by the fact that he had been chosen to take part in this little game of Bucky’s.

Turning his attention to the letter at last, Steve tore the envelope with renewed excitement. He plucked the letter from inside, and unfolded the page as he cast a glance up at his friends surrounding him. “Okay, here it goes,” he said. With that, Steve turned his attention back to the page Bucky had given him and began to read.

 ****  


Once he’d finished his letter, Steve let his fingers drift to his pocket. He could feel the metal of Bucky’s dogtags inside, and he gave them a gentle squeeze before looking up at his friends. They were all staring at him expectantly, and he fought the urge to shy away from them.

“Jesus Christ, you all are something else,” he grumbled as he covered his lower face with the letter. “Got weird habits for staring at me you know that?”

“What can we say, you’re adorable,” Angie said. She reached out and pinched his cheek for a moment before grinning at him. “So, where to next?”

Steve blinked, looking up at them. “Wait you guys don’t know where I’m supposed to go next?”

The four of them looked between each other for a moment. “Uhm, nope.” Clint said, rocking on his heels for a moment. “After your stop with Tony and me, we don’t know where you’re supposed to go next. I think it was so we don’t accidentally ruin the game for you?”

“Like you already didn’t do that,” Angie grumbled, shooting him a wicked smirk.

“Alright, alright, down girls,” Steve said, holding his hands up. He watched as Clint and Angie shared playfully dangerous looks, and hid a smirk when Peggy wrapped her arms around her girlfriend’s waist to hold her back. “Well, I guess if you guys don’t know there’s no point in me hanging around. I have to find where Thor is now. I’m running out of time!”

Peggy nodded, glancing up at the sky. The atmosphere had taken on an orange hue at that point, and she grimaced. “Steve’s right. We should walk him to the main roads and then disperse. I have errands I have to run anyway before the stores close.”

“And I gotta stop at the office real quick,” Tony added. “Sorry we couldn’t be more help, Steve-o.”

“It’s okay,” Steve replied. He gestured to the main road again, leading the small caravan out of the darker stretch of roads before turning to them. “Thank you, guys. Really. I think this has probably been the most interesting evening I’ve had in a long time.” He held his arms out at that moment and felt the four of them envelope him in one last hug. He didn’t mind admitting, he was touched that all of his friends had been so willing to play a part of this game. It was the most touching thing anyone had ever done for him, outside of his relationship with Bucky.

Tony sniffed, nodding to the street beyond the sidewalk. “Yeah, yeah. Go find your sweetheart. I don’t wanna hear him whine if you don’t beat this game.”

Peggy rolled her eyes and elbows Tony in the ribs with a whispered “shut up!”. With a laugh and a whine from Tony, the group finally began to disperse, though Peggy remained for a brief moment. When she was certain the others had left, she turned back to Steve, and tugged him into one last hug.

“You going to be alright walking by yourself?” she asked. Looking down at him, she brushed her hand down his spine for a moment before letting go. “Do you want me to walk with you for a while?”

“Nah, Peg. It’s alright,” Steve reassured her. He held up his latest letter from Bucky and beamed. “Really. I got Bucky with me. And you have things you have to do. Just- thanks for everything.”

“No problem, darling.” With that, Peggy pulled away and jogged down the sidewalk. She tossed a wave over her shoulder in his direction, and beamed a lipstick painted grin at him as she left.

Steve watched her go, waving happily at her retreating form. Left to himself, he turned his attention back to the letter to begin translating where in the hell Bucky wanted him to go. Now even more, he was determined to beat Bucky’s game and find him. He hadn’t lied when he said this had been the best evening he’d spent in a long time. He just couldn’t wait to throw his arms around his boyfriend and kiss the hell out of him when he found him.

“I’m comin’ for you, Buck,” He said, stuffing the letter into his pocket and setting off down the sidewalk at a brisk jog. “I won’t give up now. Not now. Not ever.”

* * *

 

The sun had set by the time Steve found himself at Prospect Park. The warm touch of early summer evening kept the air warm around him, and the early sounds of bugs chirping in the distance soothed him.

Panting heavily, Steve took a moment to catch his breath. He pressed his hands to his knees and took a few deep breaths to get his heart under control. With the setting sun, Steve had sprinted the remaining distance from the road to the park, hoping to catch sight of his boyfriend before the end of the day had rolled around. And he’d made it! Just as the sun cleared the horizon and cast the earth in shadow, Steve darted into the park, declaring victory loudly into the quiet atmosphere.

“Hah! I beat it, Bucky!” Steve exclaimed, throwing his hands up. He still clutched the letters in his grip, rustling the paper in the air as he laughed openly. Turning on his heel, Steve began to scan the park, looking for his boyfriend expectantly. “You can come out now! I beat your game, now where’s my prize?!”

Steve was met with nothing but silence. Confused, Steve lowered his arms to his side and really began to survey the surrounding area carefully.  He’d followed Bucky’s instructions. He’d found each and every one of his clues, tracking down every one of his friends as they handed over their clues and urged him on in this game. But upon arriving at his final destination, Steve discovered he was completely alone. Bucky wasn’t there, waiting for him like he’d promised. He’d beaten his game, and now had nothing to show for it.

Disappointment wracked Steve’s figure, his shoulders slumping low as he stared at the park around him. Maybe Bucky was hiding. Maybe he’d gotten tired of waiting and went home. They were both possible explanations, really. Steve had gotten hung up on a clue, and lost in the city when he was trying to figure out Thor’s hiding spot. Maybe he’d taken too much time to solve Bucky’s puzzle.

Frustration overwhelmed Steve. Kicking a rock away from himself, he tore his gaze from the park and turned towards the path that would take him home for the evening. Maybe Bucky was already there, waiting for him to come home. At least his evening wouldn’t be a total bust then. He could curl up with Bucky, and scold him for leading him on in such a silly game, but at least he’d be with him.

But just as Steve stepped onto the path that would lead him back to home, he stopped. A familiar voice called to him from the park, and his heart skidded to a halt in his chest. He hadn’t heard her voice in a year…

“Mom?” Steve murmured. Turning on his heel, he gazed back into the park, only to find his mother standing on the path just across the greenway. She stood alone, watching him carefully. She didn’t move an inch, but from her body language, Steve knew she was holding herself back from throwing herself across the park and pulling him into her arms.

God, he’d missed her.

“Steve?” Mom called again. Tentatively, she raised her hand and gestured for her son to come closer.

Steve nodded, though his steps were tentative as he crossed the greenway and approached his mother. Stopping just shy of arm’s length away from her, Steve allowed his gaze to skim over her figure for a moment before he met her eyes. “Mom, what are you doing here? I thought you had night shifts on Thursdays.”

“I used to, but I was changed to day shifts for a while,” Sarah explained. Her arms went limp at her sides as she stared down at her son. Her eyes burned openly with tears and she visibly fought against reaching up and brushing her fingers over her eyes. But her tears were not of sadness, Steve noted. They were of relief. “My God, I’ve missed you, Steve…”

Uncertainty clouded his vision for a moment. When he saw his mother reach for his shoulder, Steve side-stepped the gesture, his gaze never wavering as he stared her down. “You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here? Did you follow me here?” Steve tried to keep the accusation out of his voice, but he knew he was failing. He hated feeling like he couldn’t trust his mother, but after the terms they had parted on a year ago, he wasn’t sure about anything anymore. He missed his mother more than anything, but if she’d followed him to the park, just to try and dissuade him from being with Bucky again, then she’d wasted her time, and his, trying to talk him out of it.

“No, Steve. I didn’t follow you here.” Sarah explained. When Steve offered a confused look, she tore her gaze away from him to reach into her purse. A moment later she withdrew her hand, and held up what she’d been tasked with carrying.

Steve’s eyes landed on the envelope in her fingers, and he gasped openly at the sight of it. “Is- is that…”

“Yes,” Sarah murmured. Without a word, she passed the letter over to Steve, watching him as he tore open the paper to withdraw a letter from Bucky. Steve glanced up at her, his eyes as wide as saucers, taken totally by surprise by the turn of events. But before he could ask her what this was about, Sarah shushed him gently. “Read the letter first, Stevie.. Then I’ll explain.”

Swallowing thickly, Steve glanced down at the envelope in his fingers. With a shaking hand, he tore open the paper and withdrew the last letter from Bucky. This one was the shortest of them all, though not by much, and appeared to have been scribbled a little, as if Bucky had been rushing to finish the letter. Nevertheless, Steve began to read against the darkness making his vision strain, and he held his breath at the words on paper.

** **

 

Steve swallowed thickly as he read over Bucky’s last letter. With trembling fingers, Steve gently folded up the letter his mother had given him and turned to her. He was fairly certain his eyes were red at that moment, but with the cover of darkness around them he knew his mom wouldn’t be able to see him attempting to hold back the tears.

Of course, it seemed his mother was even more perceptive than even Steve knew her to be. Without a word, Sarah reached out and touched her son’s cheek, gently running her thumb along the smooth skin. “Before you ask, I did not attack him. I simply approached Bucky and asked to speak with him about the two of you, and we– we hashed out our concerns together.”

Steve laughed, hating the watery tone it took. “What makes you think I would have assumed you attacked him?”

“Because I know you, Steven Grant Rogers. I raised you, and you’ve always been painfully protective of what’s yours. Don’t even tell me that you wouldn’t have been up in arms with me if I had done so much as yell at your boyfriend.”

Well, she had a point. Steve couldn’t deny that. But as he stood before his mother, Steve realized the importance of this one moment. Bucky was such a total sap. He’d devised this whole plan just to get Steve to talk to his mother again. It hadn’t been a secret that Steve missed her, and it had clearly been apparent that Sarah felt the same way. Why else would she have approached Bucky without Steve’s knowledge? Steve knew, then and there, that this was the prize at the end of Bucky’s game. A chance to make amends with his mother, like he should have done so long ago.

Bucky was the best damn thing Steve ever had in his life.

Wiping his knuckles under his nose, Steve sniffed audibly, shaking his head as he stepped up to his mother’s side again. ‘S-so. What did you and Bucky talk about without me? Please don’t tell me he start going on about my sleeping habits.”

Sarah smiled, though she kept her hands tentatively at her sides. “No, but I did remind him about your childhood and flaunted a few baby photos in a Starbucks.”

When Steve groaned, Sarah burst into laughter at his dismay. At the expense of his embarrassment, it was probably the best sound Steve had heard in a long time. Why the hell had he wasted so much time, pushing her away from himself?

“I’m so sorry,” Steve said, lowering his tone. Just like that, the atmosphere between the two of them settled into a quiet sort of melancholy. Twelve months of wasted potential and friendship between the two of them. That was the weight of their moment– realizing that they had lost twelve fucking months of a relationship between them, over the fact that they hadn’t been patient enough to listen to each other for even a second. Steve hated it. He wanted his mom back more than anything. He just hoped it wasn’t too late to make amends for what they lost. “I'm sorry I pushed you away like that. I'm sorry i didn’t even listen to you for a second. I should have… but I was so pissed about Bucky and what people were saying about him. I just– I mean, I couldn’t stand it anymore. And then with you, I–”

“Steve,” Sarah murmured. She reached out, brushing her fingers through the unruly strands at his forehead. She pushed the golden hairs from his skin for a moment before she leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead. ‘I understand why you were so angry. I really do. I also understand why you pushed me away. I shouldn’t have stood back for so long. I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge. I was just scared. I had no idea what would happen to you. I was afraid that if I wasn’t there for you, it would mean you were vulnerable. I should have put more faith in your judgement and in Bucky. But I was stubborn too. Too stubborn to listen to you or to Bucky. And too stubborn to stand down from my narrow minded views long enough to consider that maybe you were truly happy, and not just staying with him to spite me. And for that, I’m so sorry…”

Steve sniffed. Throwing caution to the wind, he leaned in and threw his arms around his mother’s waist. He yanked her into a hug and pressed his face into the side of her neck. Instantly, Sarah's arms wrapped around her son’s shoulders in a vice-like grip, tight enough to bruise skin. Neither of them moved for a long moment; they neither spoke, save for the soft sniffles and hitching breaths as they tried to rein in their emotions and simply _be_. This moment wasn’t for talking. It was simply for reconnecting and making amends for the pain they had caused each other for so long.

After what felt like ages, Steve pulled away first. He leaned back, looking up at his mom with a small smile on his lips. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting this day to turn out like this,” he broke into a laugh, wiping at his eyes for a moment before drying his fingers on the leg of his jeans.

Sarah listened, watching her son for a moment before he gently dried her own tears away. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“Well, when I started playing this game Bucky set up for me, I didn’t know what to expect.” Steve gestured to his jeans, reaching into the pocket to withdraw the letters from inside. “Then, as I started gathering his clues up, I began to think that maybe he planned some dumb little surprise for me. He’s ridiculously sappy sometimes. And I guess he kind of delivered.”

Sarah chuckled, though she still looked confused. Confusion that, quickly, began to morph into realization. “Well that’s nice of you to call him sappy, but I still don’t understand. What do you mean, he delivered?”

Steve frowned, meeting his mother’s gaze for a long moment. ‘Uhm… wait. I thought you were in on his game. You’re my surprise at the end of the scavenger hunt. Aren’t you?”

Sarah watched her son for a moment. After a beat, her lips cracked into a brilliant smile and she laughed. “Oh Steve. No, of course I’m not your surprise!”

That threw him for a loop. Steve stared up at her for a moment, totally taken aback by her words. However, he didn't have long to contemplate them. Before he could even think to ask her what the hell was going on, Steve heard the sound of grass rustling. Turning, he spotted a yellow streak running towards the two of them through the dark. It took Steve a moment to realize what it was, and he turned, catching sight of Jack darting towards him.

“Jack?” Steve called. Before he could take a step towards the dog, Jack barked at him from his spot across the path and turned to sprint back the way he came. Startled, Steve stuffed the letters in his hand back into his pocket and took off at a run to follow the dog. He didn’t even stop to see if his mother was following after him.

Running a fast as he could, Steve followed after the dog, totally bewildered as to what the hell Jack was doing here. Clearly, Bucky was somewhere in this park. But why would he let his service dog off his harness like this? And did he know that Steve was here? Why else would Jack have come looking for him? Oh Christ. What if Bucky was in the park, somewhere, and he’d gotten hurt? Did he send Jack to go look for help, while Steve had been off playing this stupid game of his? That thought alone spurred Steve onward and he ran faster than he ever had in his life, despite the burning of his lungs as he tried to keep up with the dog.

It didn’t take long for Jack to finally come screeching to a halt. Turning on his heel, the dog began to wag his tail eagerly as Steve came up to him, leaping up to lick Steve happily for following. Steve, panting heavily, caught the dog’s forepaws and held him up as Jack laid wet, messing kisses on his cheek. “Jesus dog, what the hell are you doing? Where’s daddy? Where’s Bucky, huh?” he asked, brushing his hands along the dog’s head.

That’s when he spotted the piece of paper attached to Jack’s vest. Confused, Steve tore his gaze away from the dog’s happy face to give the paper a long look. It didn’t look like it was stuck to his vest; rather, it looked like it had been purposefully planted there. Frowning heavily, Steve reached out and plucked the paper out of his vest. Jack dropped down to the ground and began to spin in a circle, barking up at Steve eagerly as he unfolded the paper in his fingers.

Steve’s breath caught in his throat at the words written. That same familiar scrawl was etched into the white paper, slightly rumpled from Jack’s run, a single sentence that made Steve’s heart leap into his throat.

 

Before Steve could even breathe, a pair of arms wrapped around his waist from behind, clinging to him happily. He felt the familiar warmth along his spine and looked up, only to spot Bucky’s happy face beaming down at him through the cover of night. “Bucky!”

“Hey, punk,” Bucky murmured. He leaned in to press a kiss to Steve’s forehead and lingered for a moment as he held him close. ‘“What took you so long? I was about to give up and go home without ya.”

“Well you didn’t exactly leave any clues that I was supposed to be looking for Jack. I thought you planned this whole thing to get me to talk to my mom again.” Steve paused, looking around the small clearing they were in. “Speaking of which, where the hell did she go?”

Bucky didn’t answer for a moment. Instead he moved from behind Steve’s back and laced their fingers together to tug him from his spot. “She’s waiting for us. C’mon. You’re late.”

“Late for what?” Steve demanded.

Bucky glanced back at Steve; his eyes burned with amusement as he dragged him through the dark in front of them, Jack paced back and forth, leading the duo to wherever it was Bucky planned on spiriting Steve away to, barking every so often to get their attention. “Don’t question it. Just follow me. I have another surprise for you.”

He didn’t hesitate to follow after Bucky, though he did drag his heels a little to get the other man to slow down enough to look at him. “Late for what? Look here, wise guy, you had me running all over Brooklyn this evening in this weird little game of yours, and you ambushed me with meeting my mom. Not that I’m not grateful for that, but you got some explaining to do. What are you doing?”

“Just shut up for like two seconds and do as I say,” Bucky laughed.

Steve sighed to himself and allowed Bucky to drag him through the dark. He vaguely recognized where they were in the park now. So Bucky was dragging him towards the pond. Why the hell was he taking him to the pond?

Before Steve could contemplate that further, the two of them broke the treeline, only to be met with the most surprising thing Steve had ever seen in his life. Before them stood one of the park’s gazebos, decked out in strings of Christmas lights and tiny little tealight candles. The little white bulbs and dancing flames glowed brightly in the night, illuminating the whole clearing around them in a soft warm glow. Steve’s eyes grew wide as he stared at the gazebo in total silence. It was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in his whole life. “Bucky…”

“Shh,” he murmured. Wrapping his arm around Steve’s waist. Bucky gently pulled him towards the gazebo and led him up the stairs. “You might not be so mad at me when you realize I had to play that game so I had time to set all this up.”

The minute the two of them were inside the stand, Steve understood exactly what Bucky meant. The gazebo wasn’t just decorated in tiny lights. The entire stand was encased in a collection of papers, letters and photographs covering the pillars around them. Upon further inspection, Steve saw that they were all photos of the two of them, and the papers were all the letters they had shared since they were paired up in the pen pal program.

The entire stand was a display of their time together, coming full circle from their first letter together, to their latest photograph. It was the most beautiful thing Steve had seen in his life.

His eyes welled up as he stared at the images around him. Choking on a sob, Steve turned and looked up at Bucky, unable to hide the enthralled smile from him. “Bucky... you did all this… for me?”

“Yup,” Bucky replied. With a gentle hand, Bucky reached out and took Steve’s fingers in his own. He lifted the smaller man’s hands up and pressed kisses to his knuckles, one by one, before pulling Steve into his arms. “With a little help from our friends yeah. They helped me set this up for you because I have something really important to talk to you about.”

Steve swallowed, watching his boyfriend's eyes carefully. “And what would that be?”

Bucky smirked. He pressed a gentle kiss to Steve’s lips, lingering for a long moment before he turned to the entrance of the stand. “Look.”

Steve froze for a moment. He could barely make out the sounds of rustling behind him and he tentatively found himself twisting in the curl of Bucky’s arms. When he did, he felt himself floored, Christ, he might actually faint.

All of their friends had congregated behind them, almost silently. Steve hadn’t even heard them approaching. On the fringes of the group, Tony, Thor, Clint, Natasha, Angie and Sam stood happily, holding up a single rose in each hand. In the center of the group, Peter, Sarah, Brock and Peggy stood together, each one holding up a poster board with giddy smiles on their faces.

**Steven Grant Rogers, will you marry me?**

“Oh- oh my God.” Steve gasped. He stared at the poster boards for a long moment, his mind sluggishly trying to come to terms with what he was seeing. ‘B-Bucky, I–”

Bucky reached out, wrapping his fingers around Steve’s wrist. He turned him in his spot, smiling hugely down at him. Without a word, he dropped down to one knee, his eyes never leaving Steve’s face as he knelt in front of him. From his new vantage point, Bucky kept their fingers laced together, giving his boyfriend’s hands a gentle squeeze.

“I wanted to surprise you with this, because– well, because to be honest with you I don’t think i can go another day without having you totally to myself.”

“How long have you been planning this?” Steve asked. Fresh tears welled up in his eyes as he stared down at Bucky. His entire figure trembled visibly as he fought to keep on his feet.

Bucky smirked. “Officially, about a month. But I've been dying to finally ask you to marry me for probably… probably about a year.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve murmured in awe.

“I know. I've known, ever since the day I finally met you officially that you were the guy I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. And then when I got to finally have you, and we grew closer, I knew there was no way I was ever going to live my life without you in it. Stevie… you’re it for me. You’re my other half, like that Greek myth about soulmates. I knew you completed me ever since we started writing back and forth, and I haven't’ stopped falling in love with you since then.”

Steve uttered a broken laugh. He clapped his hand over his mouth to stave off another sob, and stared down at Bucky with growing devotion. “So you getting me to talk to my mom again…”

“She already gave me her blessing to propose to you. But I knew I couldn’t do it without her here. So I wanted to make sure you two both made up. So I figured that maybe this would be the perfect opportunity to do both.”

Steve nodded. He looked up from his partner and met the eyes of his friends again. They all beamed back at Steve, urging him silently to finally answer the question Bucky had so openly posed to him. After a moment, Peter spoke up, shaking his poster board at Steve. “Well, c’mon! Get on with it, already, I think his knee is getting tired!”

The entire group burst into laughter at that. Steve snorted, wiping his cheeks as he dried his tears away long enough to meet Bucky’s gaze again. He tugged on Bucky’s hands, pulling him back to his feet as he smiled up at him. “Ever since I got to meet you, I never thought that you’d ever love me. No matter how many times you told me, it took me a long time to believe it. Then, when I realized that I could love and care for you in the same way you did, I started realizing that maybe we really were meant to be together. Me, getting to take care of you and nurture you in the same way you did to me, I knew– I knew that we really were one in the same.”

“So, I take it that means yes?” Bucky asked. His lips broke into a massive grin, and he practically vibrated with excitement in his spot as he waited for Steve’s confirmation.

Steve nodded. Without a word, he threw his arms around Bucky’s neck and pulled him into a deep kiss. “Yes!” he laughed, breaking the kiss long enough to meet his gaze. “A hundred, million times yes, I will be your other half!”

Bucky cheered loudly, scooping Steve up into his arms. Around them, the clearing erupted into loud applause as their friends whooped and hollered in delight at the scene. But Bucky and Steve paid no attention to them. They only had eyes for each other as they yanked one another into a delighted, celebratory kiss.

After a moment, amongst the throng of happy friends cheering them on and flooding the gazebo to congratulate the fiances’, Bucky broke the kiss long enough to stared down at Steve in his arms. “I’ve already decided that Brock is going to be my best man. I really think Jack should be the ring bearer, though. What do you say?”

Steve laughed through his happy tears. He looked up to see Peter behind him, flashing him a proud smile and a thumbs up. He really couldn’t thank his best friend more. Peter had been through everything Steve and Bucky had gone through, helped the two of them finally make that connection, and had even supported them through the worst of their strife. Damn right was Peter going to be there through every step of their wedding. “I’m good with that, as long as Peter gets to be the flowergirl.”

Bucky paused, taking a moment to absorb his words. Moments later, he nodded enthusiastically and pulled Steve into another kiss with delight. “Hell yeah, I’m more than okay with that. We’re gonna have the most screwed up wedding in Brooklyn. I love it.”

Steve nodded. He threw his arms around Bucky’s neck and held him close to rest his chin on his shoulder. He tuned out the sound of celebration around him as he opened his eyes to soak up the sights. He spied the very first letter he had ever sent to Bucky, and the subsequent reply, right in his line of vision, and he felt his heart squeeze in happiness at the sight of it.

One letter. That’s all it had taken to bring two unsuspecting men together, some thousands of miles apart. One letter was all it had taken to change the course of both their lives. Steve had never really believed in fate before, but as he held his fiancé in his arms, he knew that he had been born to rescue a lost soldier and defy all the odds of love that could stand in the way of their happily ever after.

* * *

 

 

Art for the Proposal scene made by the amazing Eyesoffelina on Tumblr!!!!  THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE BEAUTIFUL ART! IT'S GORGEOUS!!!!

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A final thank you to everyone who stuck around for this story! i hope you enjoyed the ride and I hope you'll stick around for our solo works in the future. WE thank you all for your support and time! Much love!!
> 
> The_Nerd_Alert (Elliot)  
> L1av (Li)

**Author's Note:**

> Here's L1av's [Tumblr!](http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/)  
> Here's The--Nerd--Alert's [Tumblr!](http://steves--winter--boobear.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Please let us know what you think!!! We'd really love to talk to you <33


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